reminiscing

My memory of you

may be like a phantom,

but I will never forget

how your voice sounded.

Your silly grin

every time you told a joke.

Or how you shifted from one leg to the other

when you were thinking.

I know exactly how your hair moved

and how you looked at me.

My memories have a shape,

yet they don't.

They hang around

like a phantom behind a soft fog.

I wonder,

if I drove down the street,

visiting your childhood home,

would your mother still greet me?

Or would someone else open the door?

I wonder,

where you are,

Oh phantom of my memories.