To Marcy Howard
A memory held in the hands;but will the sense of touch slowly die,
While I feel you wait for me;but no ones behind these eyes,
A photograph can not be chased;though it might be kissed,
But that’s just a reminder;of the lips so sorely missed,
And though its your face I see;it seems that now I’m blind,
Because the only touch I feel;exists in just my mind.
Inside your picture is my heart; because its no longer mine,
And though you say you gave it back;its something I can’t find,
Yet when I look at your picture;it always brings a smile,
And though it might be temporary; this pain is gone awhile,
And every night I close my eyes;there’s only one thing that I see,
Your picture that I see each day;but the past has added me.
Though all I hold is your picture;and everything else is gone,
If I whisper Hail to the queen;I remember every song,
Your picture brings me memory;I need to see it every day,
To keep what was found alive;and not make it what we pay,
So as I sip my coffee;I smile at the mixture,
Life, love and happiness;all held inside your picture.