What becomes of the hours and entities of those that we once knew?
When they quickly escape our grasp the moment we close our eyes?
Time turns deftly into fading echos and softened, dissolving sillouettes,
As each day continues on into the hardened, murky shadows.
 
What becomes of the whispered moments of a love that’s come to pass?
Is there a place reserved for the heart’s tenderness to lie itself to rest?
Only coming back to visit life when the moon arrives, full and high,
Then retreating back to yesterday just as swiftly as the morning sun breaks?
 
Upon the highest shelf of immortal love that you now call your home,
I ask that you will remember me, as you live invisibly beside me,
Resting your untouching, unfaultering hands upon the years left of my life,
Speaking your unheard words and secrets continually within my ear.
 
Let not the time nor the great fathoms of our distance spare,
Nor keep seperate your quieted heart beat and breath of life from mine,
Gaze beneath my flesh, induldging yourself into my soul, as will I with you,
Drinking from its eyes the days and nights we once held in faithful solidarity.
 
— Amye Nicole Bird