When the Music Begins to Fade, This One I Won’t Let Go

I forget the names of flowers now,

Though once I knew them all—

The lilac’s scent, the rose’s blush,

Now blur against the wall.

The kettle sings, or maybe cries,

I’m never quite that sure.

The hallway bends in stranger ways

Than it ever did before.

Faces come with borrowed eyes,

Their voices out of tune.

They say we danced in Paris once—

Or was it Brig o’ Doon?

But one thing stays, a lighthouse flame

That will not dim or fade:

Your hand in mine that rainy night

When all the world was greyed.

The storm had cracked the sky in two,

The power lines were down.

You lit a candle with a laugh

And wore your wedding gown.

We sat and watched the shadows play

Like children on the wall.

You kissed my cheek and whispered low,

“I’d love you through it all.”

I don’t recall the year or day,

Or what we ate or wore—

But I remember how you looked

When you closed that kitchen door.

The rest may twist, may fall apart,

Like pages in the rain.

But that one night, that one soft light,

Comes back to me again.

So let the years unspool and fade,

Let names and places flee—

I’ll hold that moment like a stone

Inside the crumbling sea.