Whenever I think of you – you seem further away. The corners are dusty, the photos face down; the shadows move quietly in your room.

…It is because it is.

But when the sun is warm and the beer is chilled, with just the cans for company – and that song you used to sing out loud…oh bella…

…oh, bella.

Maybe I have a rosy view of you. All the better to remember you by.