The only times I saw emotion were the times you cried
When I left and that once when watching a biog of JFK
(but then that day you’d had a bit too much wine).
Other than that you just clowned so, mostly for me
And pitched your voice higher talking to me.
I didn’t realize at all until you took an office call
how much deeper your voice actually, usually was.
Now I look at you and can’t believe it’s you
Half quelled by your voice so level
Your touch so steady
Your breath so severe
Your face as straight as blankened slate
And I recognize now, though it‘s too late,
That once upon a time, I had been so very dear.