The reproach in your daughter's most beautiful facenMade me wonder just how she could knownOf that something that happened between you and menSo much more than a long time agonnHer mother, I can see, lives within her stillnCause she looked at me with her eyesnThough I had only just met her right thennI feel that she peeled back my guilty disguisennDid I break the thread, or did you break the thread?nWell at this point we could ask who caresnAs for the promises broken and frayednIt's 19 years late for repairsnnThe grey pewter vase held the deep red rose,nOne piece of coral shone white,nBy the brass candlestick near your red velvet coat,nIs everything I can recall of one nightnnWill you please tell me why I remember these thingsnAfter all of this time, I don't knownI must have left all those feelings insidenCause that year I had no courage to shownnWas I the name you could never pronounce?nOr did I even figure at all?nAll of this happened before she was bornnDid I shadow her young pencil marks on the wallnnStill I am sure I was only but onenOf a number who darkened that doornOf your home and your hearth and your family and wifenWho'd been darkened so often beforennOh, the red leaf looks to the hard gray stonenTo each other, they know what they meannSomewhere, their future is still yet to comenIn ways that are yet as of now unforeseen