It's Sunday morning and I sit here thinking of her,
Her gentle manner, soft voice,
The sound of another person in the morning,
Smell of shampoo in the room,
A voice, just a voice, how important,
Often I think of the people I know who have passed on,
What did they live for,
All of that work,
What was it for,
Then at night,
I feel her warmth next to me,
Caress her sleeping body and feel her heart beat,
Sweet breath,
Then I know why.