--came home and read it to my wife and we both teared up. It brought old wounds forth.

I think this will be a song.

---

If I sing soft enough and in a whisper

It makes everything sound important

but none of it is

It doesn't matter that you died in my lap

It doesn't matter that it was at my own hands

The best days are the cold ones when the sky is blue and the ground is hard

You made me work one last time

I miss the way you fit

I met the new neighbors today

They will never know you

Remember your first surgery?

How you crawled across the floor?

If I sing loud enough it will make me sound angry

But I'm not, so I will sing softly

I miss you