Roy,
I went by your father's shop five years ago
To get a new pair of spectacles
Your father was friendly, and polite
A real old-fashioned Mangalorean gentleman
He told me square frames suited my face


I dropped in again three years back
And your mother sat in his old place
Told me he was no more
But I suppose you'd already know that,
If you can know things

I visited again two years ago
Because a friend had opened shop in the same building
And your father's shop was closed down
Everything was gone
The shelves, the frames, the posters, the sign

Once you told me about a giant lens your father had ordered
I don't remember if anyone knew why
But it was a source of joy and pride to him, and to you
So I'll imagine you, with him
In space
Gazing through the lens
Aim it over here. No, a little to the right. See? This is me, waving.

Your pal,
JP