At midnight I can hear the bells Across the sleeping town. Twelve slow voices through the darkness, One by one they settle down. I know each space between them. I know when silence comes. But tonight I waited longer. And then there was another one. The thirteenth bell was softer, As if it came from underground. The curtains stopped their breathing. The rain forgot its sound. And somewhere in the silence, I remembered you again. A face I had never seen before. A voice without a name. Twelve hours belong to the living. One belongs to you. Twelve hours carry me through darkness. One brings me back to you. I know the room. I know the window. I know the light upon your hair. But when the morning finds me, I cannot remember you were there. Each night the bell returns now. Each night you become more clear. The blue dress by the doorway. The book beside the chair. I remember winter evenings. I remember holding your hand. I remember saying I would never leave. I don't remember who I am. Tonight I heard you speaking Before the final bell. Not inside my memory. Somewhere else. You said my name so quietly I almost let it go. Then suddenly I understood What I was not supposed to know. Twelve hours belong to the living. One belongs to you. Twelve hours I try to remember. One hour remembers me too. I know the room. I know the window. I know the light upon your hair. But I am not remembering you. You are remembering me. Twelve bells. Silence. I wait for one more. Nothing.
