Sunday afternoons remind me of you
The still spickle solid air and background noise
And perfect mid-June hues through windows.
I breathe it in and you're still around
While your smile's framed on walls
On my piano, on desks and in minds,
Everything else is just furniture.
I keep you close through a whistle
When mother used to sing in the mornings
I keep you close through my vintage heart
That used to be spoiled by your gifts,
Though our routine was never predictable
Your smile was newer everyday.
Everything else is just a reproduction.
We were alive, you and I,
And I will not forget
You're just smiling on the other side
Of my afternoon sky.