It’s not the dripping
that I always hear
it’s just the moaning in her sleep
resting here beside me
The faucet often awakens me as well
My sleepless nights
we spend together as she restively
walks in mysterious dreams
unknown to me
And I hear the dripping
knowing it must be fixed
but how do I repair all the broken things
in our life
All the things I have to remember
the things she has forgotten
from moment to moment
As the faucet drips
and drains away
and I lie awake
hearing
Hearing the breathing
gentle snoring
often tender hopeful grasping of my arm
And the morning birds still sing once more
after nights
of dozing sleep
The scented memory of our love
gives me hope
within the gorges of despair
As she sleeps
Listening to her whispering
whimpering memories dripping away
