I would write to you, my love.
But you would never receive my message.
The direction of flow is wrong.
Yet I know what I want to say
Because you put it in my head in those days.
My memory is all that is left of you,
A letter from the dead, not to.
What fills my heart is only from you.
Because of you.
Like a tune one can’t forget,
Pleasure and heartache every time.
In my eyes are your eyes
That smiling at me said everything.
The living carry the dead with them.
Singing as they go.
Christopher Andrews
04/11/2006
Beautiful.