Haunting echoes of laughter,
Your charming, infectious smile,
Spreading, while crinkling your eyes.
I clutch at those things of past,
Grasping at every last straw,
Oh, all those happy times!
Now only their ghosts remain
Phantom feeling of hands
Together, fingers interlaced.
As a breeze, both hot and cold
Blew against our faces that day,
I strummed my guitar while you
Sang like a nightingale.
As I stand by your grave today
Cold wind whipping my face,
Nothing ever seems the same,
Memories, just washed away.
Smiling, on the ground you lay,
As if dreaming, never to wake.
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