Her voice came to him in the dark, silent hours after the dead had all gone cold.
Cicero wanted it to be real. He prayed and prayed. . .
His pleas went unheard. He laughed and laughed. . .
The voice said Mother loved him.
Cicero listened. But he could never listen hard enough.
The voice he heard was never the right one.
It never spoke the secret words.
Secret, secret, mustn't tell a soul! Cicero will tell no one, Mother!
Speak, speak, but no one hears. . .
In the dark, with the dead and quiet ghosts, he cried and cried.
