I Will Remember For You

(Fixed a bit, maybe more is needed.

In the days when my father's memory seemed to be slipping
I wanted to tell him that I would remember it for him,
If only I could, if only I could.

Memories of games, and warm firesides, of laughter and play
I wanted to share them with him forever, and ever,
If only I could, if only I could.

Backwards in time he wandered each day, with his own inner memoir of laughter and play
I wanted to hold him in comfort, and to share
If only I could, if only I could.



Where does the past go in each passing moment? what does it mean that the time has gone?
I wanted to tell him it never would matter,
If only I could, if only I could.

When light, itself, seemed not to register, and sounds seemed to echo in the sterile room
I wanted, for him, to see these memories, to hear them to share them,
If only I could, if only I could.

And now that he's gone they reside in us all, splintered and partial, maybe drifting away
I want to sail on that vast ocean, to dip my toes, to take time to reflect,
I think I could, I really could.