Where Were You, David?

[Verse I] Where were you, David, when her whispered name, a phantom ache, drifted from her dreaming lips— not truly here, not yet entirely gone, just poised in some ether between. The day, a cruel charade of normal. You fastened buttons, a ritual of routine, watched dust motes dance in the fractured morning light, each one a silent echo of her hand reaching for the coffee cup She wouldn't pour again, not today. [Chorus I] Where were you, David, when her last breath untwined? Not standing vigil in the sterile light, not lost among the dew-kissed leaves. Just frozen, halfway down the hallway, of a life that snapped its silent tether without a single, asked permission. [Verse II] You told little Geneviève, "Mama's on a journey, far away." But you couldn't speak of the undimensioned place where time's relentless current ceases. She nodded, with that ancient wisdom children hold, knowing deeper truths than fragile words can ever tell. And you watched her small hand sketch a sun, its rays too numerous to count— a silent tally, one for every sunrise her mother missed. [Chorus II] Where were you, David, when the world dissolved to something soft and strange? Brewing tea that cooled, untouched, beside you, turning pages of books whose words dissolved to mist, flinging open a window that never seemed wide enough, too narrow to reel her memory back. [Bridge] She was still breathing, you swore it. But not with the fragile architecture of lungs. With the boundless breath of memory. With something ancient, beyond the reach of science. You felt it— the profound hush that swallows sound, that follows a question too vast for any human tongue. [Final Chorus] Where were you, David, when love became a shimmering thread, a fragile, unbreakable tether stretching between one world's fading light and another's silent shore? You were here. You were the steadfast shore, waiting. You were remembering the very last echo of her voice, a melody now woven into the stars.