I hear my name in the pattering of the rain,

through the wind,

in the rustling grass and leaves beneath my feet.

It's called by a voice I know well,

one I've heard my whole life.

But it's not possible.

You're gone

claimed by the clutches

of merciful darkness

after months of suffering.

I can never get you back,

only through my dreams and pictures

can I see you.

But dreams are forgotten,

and pictures fade,

memories corroded in the current of time.

A touch once so vivid

is now nothing more than a whisper of wind.

I would do anything

just to see you one last time.

But you're gone.