I feel like crying tiny words; tiny secret words.
I feel like crying tiny words that tell the floor all about being without you.
I feel like crying a tiny novel, not a short story, a tiny novel with 22 chapters.
I feel like letting the air read all about you, dying.
I feel like letting the tears do the recounting.
I feel like crying tiny secret words; tiny sad words.
I feel like touching your hand; your hand was always calm.
I feel like finding out about your day; I used to just sit and listen.
I feel like smelling that soft vanilla scent that came with you.
I feel like hearing you say those things, about my eyes; remember?
- And how are those big, beautiful, eyes, today?
- They are fine, Grandpa, still big and beautiful.
I feel like closing my eyes and never letting your voice go.
I feel like crying tiny words; tiny secret words;
Tell the chair, the walls, my sleeves that I miss you so much.