Would that I knew the songs you loved to hear,
the puzzles that you worked, the books you read,
instructions that were clear and those unclear,
the times all went as planned, the times misled.

Would that I knew the paths you loved to walk,
tne ease of level and the test of steep,
most pleasant when companion joined to talk
of good that brings rejoice, of sorrow weep.

Would that I knew the things you loved to make,
perhaps cross-stitch or knitting or crochet,
perhaps housekeeping or desire to bake
uncommon treats to mark a common day.

Would that I knew the stories you once told,
now pecious memories loves safely hold.