Now all we have are memories
Elusive as they are.
I ask you to describe your day
And it all floats away
A cloud of unrecalled words
Stumbled, circling, stunted conversation.
But I'll always know
The tone and cadence of your voice
Your calm and measured way
Of always thinking before speaking
Dispassionate and disapproving
And how that infuriated me.
And how I long for it now.
