He spoke with his hands
and moved with his heart.
Kept watch by his soul,
and felt in his spirit.
This quiet man known for his eyes,
endlessly dark and gentle.
Eyes that told so much
that words only proved to reiterate their point.
Eyes held up by a curve of laugh lines that also insisted upon smiling.
And he stood stories above my memory of him.
In my memory,
he was the sky.