Memory in E Minor

I kept your postcard in the spine of an old paperback

Between the maps and at night where the quiet gathers back

The lamp was low, the kettle sighed, the window held the rain

And every little thing you left came walking through again

I crossed the square at market time, no bells in my coat sleeve

The butcher left, the cyclist turned, the pigeons wouldn't leave

Of Westlife, yours and another tonne drifted from a café door

I stood there with my hands half raised as if I knew the score

Oh, memory, be gentle now, don't sharpen every part

Just let me carry what remains without another star

If I call your name too softly, it is only for the air

I'm learning how to miss you with my head bowed someone dare

The river wore its afternoon like silver on a blade

I watched the boats and thought of us

The promises we made

Your shadow in the citron light

Your laughter in the stone

I'm little gone, but not yet fully grown

Oh, memory, be gentle now, don't sharpen every part

Just let me carry what remains without another start

If I call your name too softly, it is only for the air

I'm learning how to miss you with my head bowed somewhere there

So I leave the door unlatched for rain

For music, for the past

For all the fragile halfway things

That somehow always last

And if you come in dreaming

I will answer without fear

A tender room, a borrowed light

And your small echo here