Don't ever fade from my memory darling,
Don't ever leave because you're dead;
For the sight of your face, touch of your hand,
A fading memory which most I dread.
Don't ever cease to speak my child,
Don't silence the sound even a little while;
For the sound of your voice, whifting through
Holds such memories just of you.
© Helen Catherine Cramer
16th December 1982