Where I Still Find You

I miss you in the quiet hours,
when the world has gone to sleep,
when memories slip through my fingers
and settle somewhere deep.

I still find you in little things—
in songs we used to hear,
in the warmth of an empty chair,
in every voice I wish was near.

I loved you in the crowded days,
I love you in the blue,
and somehow every road I take
still leads me back to you.

If distance had a language,
I think it would say your name.
If missing you were a fire,
I'd burn inside the flame.

Maybe love doesn't disappear
when someone walks away.
Maybe it simply learns to live
in the places where they stay.

So if you ever wonder
whether I still think of you—
look up at the evening sky;
I'm probably looking there too.