On Monday I hanged a portrait of you, Treasured every photograph of us; so few. But it's not the same as having you here, My life was secure holding you so close and near. On Tuesday I played back all the messages you left, They seep through my soul like a sneaky theft, They maybe a month, or a thousand days old, Yet your voice still warms my entire soul. On Wednesday I stepped outside to stand in the rain, Every drop soaked me with sweet, grieving pain. I remembered that playing in the rain couldn't make you any happier, I swear I could still hear your joyous laughter. On Thursday I'll lie down in the middle of the open, I'll make up your name in the September constellation. Though heaven is high up by an infinite number of miles, That's the closest thing I could find nearest to your smile. On Friday I sat alone by the burning fire, My heart aches upon this longing desire. Like every different patterns of each falling snow, I came up with a million different reasons why I still love you so. On Saturday I drove off 100miles after sunset, Drove past the huge brown clock where we first met. I'm reminded of your first warm greeting every time the clock chimes, The only reason why I've driven past this place millions of times. On Sunday morning I reached your front door, The usual feeling of utter regret I couldn't ignore. Wondering if you're kind enough to open it after all these years, I would willingly get down on my knees to shed my lonely tears. For a week my love for you was hidden and locked, And for a month I've grieved and my happiness blocked. For a year my feelings for you I've kept in constant flow, Maybe for a lifetime long, I'll never know.