I remember you in quiet rooms,
where absence keeps your shape;
in songs that reach the edge of day
then fade before they stay.
The wind still carries your voice;
rain remembers your laughter.
Through the slow turn of seasons,
I almost feel you near—
not as memory alone,
but as light held briefly
before it fades.
The stars keep their quiet watch,
steady and sure;
beneath their silver burning,
your name returns
like warmth
I had not asked for,
and could not keep.
2d ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 7:37 AM UTC
I remember you in quiet rooms,
where absence keeps your shape;
in songs that reach the edge of day
then fade before they stay.
The wind still carries your voice;
rain remembers your laughter.
Through the slow turn of seasons,
I almost feel you near—
not as memory alone,
but as light held briefly
before it fades.
The stars keep their quiet watch,
steady and sure;
beneath their silver burning,
your name returns
like warmth
I had not asked for,
and could not keep.
Living with the memory of love
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