Memory can tell us
only what we were,
In company with those we loved;
It cannot help us find out what each of us,
Alone, must now become.
Yet, no person is really alone;
Those who live no more still echo
Within our thoughts and words,
And what they did has become
Woven into what we are.
In company with those we loved;
It cannot help us find out what each of us,
Alone, must now become.
Yet, no person is really alone;
Those who live no more still echo
Within our thoughts and words,
And what they did has become
Woven into what we are.
If tears could build
a stairway,
And memories a lane,
I’d walk right up to heaven
And bring you home again.
And memories a lane,
I’d walk right up to heaven
And bring you home again.
No comments:
Post a Comment