The radio always playing
In a manner too loud
For one person, but two
Floors, this old house
It must dim the echo
Of her emptiness, these
Songs I remember so well
His crooning, whistling while
Prepping his family’s meal
That vacancy of memory
Of his sound, the nightclub feel
A martini sipped slowly
His smoke gently rising from
An ashtray taking for granted
Health, like his favorite singer
Now gone too who sang
With a cigarette wedged
Between fingers, scotch
Waiting diligent on an
Adjacent podium while
Lady is a Tramp and
The Girl from Impanema
Cascade effortlessly
Across the stage
Cherished women
These melodies his gift
Keeping her company
In her hope to soon,
Be with him again