Portfolio of Hope

Going down the escalators at the bus station,
an old man standing in front of me,
who I think is you.
I have to stop myself from calling out your name,
tapping you on the shoulder,
‘Grandad!’
But then I realise,
it’s not you.
It can’t be you,
because,
you’re gone.
Mind constantly playing tricks on me,
the finality of you being gone too much to bear.