I don't know if you, choose to agree,
The discussion is more about you, than me.

Did you ever think of thee,
Being part of our history?
Involved in the daily news,
Even if it's not what you choose?
Me neither, but then I see
You don't volunteer for history.

I awaken to the sounds, at night
Of crying, silently to ease the plight
And realize that the noise I hear
Is coming from someone so near.
I move my hand and then I feel
The tears on my cheeks, are real.
Stop it! I say, in my Father's word
You're a Big Boy and don't be heard.
But at night when there is little sound
There's no one there, no one around.
The pain; knowing the loss will take
Helps me not, for when I awake,
I know that this time of ours
Will soon only be up in the Stars.

There's a terrible hurt, that dwells inside,
This ancient shell of a man.
It is a painful process, to decide
That the anguish of a forgotten love,
Can not, will not and must not deride
That memory of praying to God up above.
Only time will lessen the pain, if you decide.