Nothing. It's OK.

<Audio>

She is looking at what we will see, one day.

Through closed eyes she stares,

with not a flicker. There's the

low, slow, bated breath,

ventriloquising

what we

cannot

hear,

or

see,

or feel.

A longing

to be at rest.

The last breath

of stillness at the end,

with not a flicker. There's

stares, at tears screwed of my eye's

longing, just to see her, seeing me, one day.