Would you rather
Have to shout all the things you want to whisper,
Or have to whisper all of the things you want to shout?

You're like that really old brick building,
From the sixteen hundreds.
The one covered in vines and flowers.
It's so old, and beautiful.
But I feel that,
If I look too hard at either one of you,
You'll crumble to the ground.
And all of the history will be lost.

I haven't driven out to see either of you in a while.
I hope you're both still okay.
I think I just want to remember you
The way you were.
I want to shout this,
But I can barely manage a whisper.