Slipping

It’s been a year.

And with each passing day,

Your face slips further away

And I strain to remember

The sound of your laugh,

Or your crooked smile.

I know you live

In the corners of my head,

But, the more time I spend

Letting life pass me by,

The more I’m losing my grip

On your wrinkled hand.

I wish we’d gotten a little longer.

And I wish you’d gotten a little stronger.

But for now,

I do what I can to remember that hand

And I squeeze it whenever I feel you 

Near.