I used to speak in bigger rooms, Now chairs remember more than faces. I watch the dust perform its dance And wonder if I’ve left enough traces. No one remembers the beginning. Only how it ends. My hands once held their trembling steps, But I taught pride instead of grace. They learned to run, I stayed behind, Now I live in a quieter place. No one remembers the beginning. Only how it ends. And I kept forgetting That silence also speaks. I gave them clocks instead of stories, Taught them work, forgot the songs. Now they sing in other houses, And I just hum along. No one remembers the beginning. Only how it ends. And I kept forgetting That silence also speaks. There was a summer once. They were small. I was loud. We ate peaches on the stairs And I think I said something kind Without meaning to. That’s the moment I should’ve written down. Not the birthdays. Not the grades. Not the speeches. Just that peach, and the sun, And the sound of someone still laughing with me. I left the light on for forgiveness, But the hallway stayed dim. Now the mirror still reflects me — But it never lets me in. No one remembers the beginning. Only how it ends. And I kept forgetting That silence also speaks. No one remembers the beginning. Only how it ends.
