i can't hear you calling my name anymore

I don't know the curl of your smile

Has it been 21 years

perhaps my memory is on trial

I think I can guess at the sound

It's white noise at best

In and out of reverance

or when I feel depressed

You hold the key to breaks

In times of pallid reflection

A state of stained glass truth

and forced introspection

Do you have something to tell me?

Something that I fail to hear?

Please whisper your lesson

And let your voice ring clear

Copyright:  Brian Pellerino   2010