Sometimes in the early morning, rising from my bed
I hear a distant, silent sound, a voice inside my head
But wake to empty rooms again, and loneliness instead
I know the echoes in my mind, are things that you have said...
I have a sense of years ago, but know those years are gone
Remembering the things we shared, and all the things we’ve done
The dreams begin at night, but in the morning I’m alone
Another piece within sorrow’s collection, that I own...

And though I seek relief from this, to ease the mental strain
Each morning finds me waiting here, a prisoner to the pain
So on I travel through my days, till evening comes again
No one sees the tears I shed, released within the rain...
Now and then I wake to unheard voices in my head
Lying in the changing light uneasy in my bed
It feels like rain again, although the sky is blue instead
The memories that come back to me,
Are things that you have said  

Dean Evans...
11-13-13