Everywhere I turn, there you are But when I reach out to speak To touch I know it's just a dream Built on memories. I see you in every room In this house In which you grew And a little bit of you Lingers still within the rooms To touch the chords of memories. Ah, but if the dreams of sight Were blessed with touch And voice in memories Then perhaps I could lay this pain To rest Until the day we meet again. © Helen Catherine Cramer 13th December 1981