Pieces

What do you think about, what do you see

More than you can talk about, perhaps

Moments of time captured

More lost

Each day very much like the last

Some better

Some worse

Time passes

Hours, days, weeks

Months

Two years, three

This disease is a sentence

No one can know its path

Or its time

It is a robber 

A thief

Of memories

Of you

I miss our conversations

I miss your jokes

The twinkle in your eye

Although sometimes it is still there

Fleeting

Fleeting moments

But I will take them as they come

However fleeting

I will walk down that hall as many times as I can

To see them

To see you