To Scott

why do i only remember
your hands? Those everloving hands slowly walking the
fretboard, caressing the strings,
and losing their voices?
     Why does your
          caring manner
not cross my mind, and why don't i think of the way you held
me, the way those sensitive fingers twirled my curls as i
cried?
Why don't i remember the way you would look at me, and touch
my face,
     each fingertip feeling more love than my whole body
was capable of?

Why?

Because you told me not to.
          And i always listen to you.

by E. K., Henniker, NH