Voices from the Past

I saved your voice like a photograph, preserved,

not just a message, but warmth I deserved.

Each time I play it, the crackle of the speaker,

reminds me of moments when laughter was sweeter.

You’re a ghost in my pocket, a whispering past,

a comfort I clutch, knowing it can’t last.

In the echoes of your tone, nostalgia plays rough,

a haunting refrain, but still, it’s not enough.