As you begin to fade, I live with the hope of the next time
And my loneliness - I wipe like a well waxed floor,
It never shows
And is well preserved and built through years
And in the nights when I see the truth and I know
I am losing you bit by bit,
Piece by piece,
Memory by memory,
I walk the streets and look at the stars
Oh how the moon burns my skin
And then I return to you and your smiles
And your day of many mornings.
bobby stevenson 2013
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