Nightingale hisses to the silent rose
east or west north or south
every direction the winds flow
know how melodious are my songs.
The quitter I am the sweeter it's
whispers the rose!

Temporary is my existence on this planet I have mistaken as true,
For I am from beyond where my spirit flies free,
Celestial currents flow through melodiously within me,
As constellations hidden in my soul shine through my daily decree,
The wind whispers of limitations on my visitation rights as I fall to the illusion of security,
I am reminded by nature that I am not from here,
For I am from beyond where my spirit flies free.

Listen.

Can't you hear the creak of the floorboards?
Can't you hear the faint call of a name?

The house still thinks you're there;
The rooms still think you're breathing.

Listen.

Can't you hear the crunch of the frost coated grass?
Can't you hear the turn of the engine?
(Roaring to life)

The earth still thinks you step there.
The car still thinks you drive there.

Feel it?

Can't you feel the sweat building up between tightly grasped hands?
Can't you feel the head so gently laid upon your arm?

The hands still think you're coming back--
The heart still thinks you're beating together.

The image of you and her dancing barefoot throughout the house still flashes.
The sound of you and her whispers still linger.
The feeling of you and her still in love is there.

Remember?

The sound of the radio still statics in and out.
The feeling of warm love still beats inside.
The sight of a smile and laughter still is engraved in the mind.

Remember?

You and her together.
You and her forever.

Remember?

She remembers.
She still sees you dancing through the house.
She still hears you whispering love melodies.
She still feels you there with her,
Lingering, tingling, staying forever--
Haunting her.