I've been reading about you.
Every word, though a short piece
I keep in my wallet
To look over now and then.
The page folds across your breast
Where I was wont to be.
It's a good likeness of a girl
With style, and eyes and flowing auburn tresses,
And a smile that makes me smile
Recalling summer.
Could we start again, please.
Perhaps a different ending, please.

how faint his final cry
how frail his last goodbye
plays on low as he drifts away
'song of the sandman lullabye'
he wraps himself in memories
he finds a dream and falls
the music on a constant loop
makes its way down hollow halls

morning light now finds no breath
the pen's ink soon to dry
his final words
his quiet death

'song of the sandman lullabye'

I can’t take Sam off speed dial
I’m expecting his call
Especially Sunday mornings
Warming up, stretching tall

That’s when he always calls me
Though sometimes I call him
Now twenty Sundays have passed
My chances getting slim

I can’t delete my brother
I’m still yearning for his call
He owes me one, even though
He died one Sunday last fall

Silence is louder
but more subtle,
    
               for the answers

are seen more than spoken.