searching

she weeps as she searches
in the cupboards, under the bed;
I search too as I follow her
from room to room, day to day;

when she sits and strokes the couch
cushions all faded orange and tries
to remember the morning's memories,
I am there too watching and waiting;

we sit, just the two of us there
and say her name over and over,
she starts in a decaying whisper
and ends in a frightened scream;

she's chasing the sun's rays with tired
eyes as she rises to search again
under flowerpots, behind the maple tree;
I search too, room to room, year to year.