On the table a plate bound in silence,
no one touches it, no one picks it up.
An empty chair, a shadow in the yard,
and a house that no longer dawns.

Clothes folded as he left them there,
its fragrance lingers like a cold whisper.
The mother lies awake, the wound does not close,
and the father stares at the wall, silent, mute.

The brothers are silent, they don't play, they don't laugh,
in the corridor, the bicycles don't ride anymore.
In the living room a cake that will not be erased,
birthdays lost in empty calendars.

And the phone... I wish it would ring,
but the line is dead, the name is erased.
"Have you arrived?", they always asked at the same time,
but the message was lost in the silent darkness.

The families of Tempe do not live, they survive,
walking in the void with a heavy heart.
A hug not given, an "I love you" not said,
and a train that took away joy.

And the silence on the rails, heavy as a grave,
a shadow that will never leave there.
Families are crying, but the world is running,
but for them, time stopped there.