Echoes Calling out In Time

Memories fade, but voices are heard

When he called out her name,

There were a hundred replies,

They all repeated her name,

Over and over again.

Time had stood still,

But the memories remained,

Like a cruel dark and ugly stain.

He had lost her that winter’s day,

As the wet mud turned into soft clay.

Echoes kept calling him back in time,

When she was his and their love was rhyme.

Memories always fade in the drift of time,

Like sweetness in a cool glass of wine.

He called out her name in his sleep,

A hundred echoes were always his to keep.

Memories may fade, but silent voices are heard,

Like the sweet melodies of a dream bird.

He kept calling out her name,

Hoping that she would return again.

He heard the echoes like a million sighs,

Filled with the voices of a hundred replies,

They all desperately repeated her name,

Over and over and over again.