The mem'ries live inside my dreams
illuminating white and black
Your shapes and figures, blotted out,
the pen of time does not give back.

There are some days, my eyes go dark,
a rush of sin creeps through my blood.
the good in me was left inside
the man I was before the flood.

I try so hard to keep reminders:
the things you'd say, your endless laughter.
that life is made of little joys,
that death is but the final chapter.

So as you cross that endless sea,
returning to the other side
know that you are not forgotten
for you will always be my guide.