I miss the particular curve of your smile
And the way your shoulders shook when you laughed.
I miss your fingerprints, rivers of spirit.
I have recordings of your voice.
I wish you were here.
There is so much I would have done differently.
Listen, God is singing through the Elms, first as thunder, then as wind, then as trembling leaves and limb.
I miss the particular curve of your smile
And the way your shoulders shook when you laughed.
I miss your fingerprints, rivers of spirit.
I have recordings of your voice.
I wish you were here.
There is so much I would have done differently.