I can hear those baseboard banshees under my feet

I can smell when they burn their meat

I see their footprints in the snow and sleet

Why is it we never meet,

A face is a thing we all share

It displays who we are with a stare

Then both see that there is human there

Why is it then that nobody will care,

A hand is a good thing to give

You lend it to those and they live

then memories don't slip through the sieve

Why is it nobody remembers to give.