Sometimes when we rest I forget the sound
Of his voice and how it could fill a room
And next thing I know I wish to be drowned
In it complete with no sunlight to bloom
I can recall his mouth open and close
With forgotten words and forgotten tone
And suddenly the last of what’s heard goes
Left with nothing despite it being well-known
I turn to him, our waking eyes meet
Always seems to feel like the first time
I watch him move his head against the sheet
Listening close for his morning chime
With tired eyes, I’m told good-morning
And once again, I feel my love forming