Keeping your body safe

I run a soft silver brush
through your thinning hair,
you can see us in the mirror
but only a body sits so still.

Often I can catch the corner
of a smile and wonder where
you have traveled to, what year
what style, the latest fad?
We have so many fragments.

I can tell by your hands
when you are dancing,
they shape the closing notes
of a full orchestral score
falling beyond the deaf composer.

Next time you come back,
bringing that smile and soft hand
to my cheek, I want to know
how you do it, so I may join you,
find a walk on part in your scene.

And if this is to be the last separation,
then I hope you're in a perfect place
where you can leave a trace, a marker
for me to follow, the slightest echo.
I have no plans to wait around.