In the silent weave of time's gentle flow, A year has passed where the shadows grow. Dear Tristan, with eyes like the morning's art, Spoke to the soul, though words stayed apart. Non-verbal yet vibrant in his quiet grace, He touched the universe with a tender embrace. His laughter echoed where language stalled, A symphony of love in a world enthralled. In every heart he left his gentle trace, A silent angel etched with celestial lace. Though time marches on, his essence stays near, In whispers of love, we're forever here.