You asked me if I sang,
do you remember?
And you berated me for the
foolish nonsense on the frail floors?
Those below could hear my noise?
And you prepared the suppers we devoured
and you watched the food dwindle
and you told me wasting paper is a sin
and you read me stories about
rabbits and birds frolicking in the forest.
You kissed my cheek and massaged my arm
while I drifted into sleep.
My cheeks yearn for you supple.
My cheeks are in need for a blessing.
My poor cheeks.
They say you, a tranquil monk
of the temple.
They say you, the provider.
They say your soul
was woven from a rare and
You've sewn this same fabric before.
When I was a twinkle in your eye.
I say you were a good friend.
Will you remember me?