{"id":178,"date":"2026-04-07T22:22:28","date_gmt":"2026-04-07T22:22:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/?page_id=178"},"modified":"2026-04-13T02:50:14","modified_gmt":"2026-04-13T02:50:14","slug":"the-song-that-slips-away","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/poetry\/the-song-that-slips-away\/","title":{"rendered":"The Song That Slips Away"},"content":{"rendered":"

Morgan Thomas<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s a piano.<\/span><\/p>\n

I hear it drifting through the dim corners of my mind\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

a single, trembling note trying to find its place<\/span><\/p>\n

in a song I used to know.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I close my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Everything else is fog.<\/span><\/p>\n

But this\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

this I remember.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Small hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

A soft voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

A little girl with a loose braid and determined eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mo.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She sits beside me on the bench,<\/span><\/p>\n

her feet swinging above the ground,<\/span><\/p>\n

trying so hard to reach the pedals<\/span><\/p>\n

even though she never could.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cGrandpa, sing with me,\u201d she says,<\/span><\/p>\n

her voice bright enough to warm the whole room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t forget my part.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Forget.<\/span><\/p>\n

Such a small word.<\/span><\/p>\n

Such a heavy one now.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But back then, I never forgot anything.<\/span><\/p>\n

Back then, my mind was whole.<\/span><\/p>\n

Back then, I remembered every note, every breath, every smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So I sing.<\/span><\/p>\n

My voice shakes,<\/span><\/p>\n

but she beams at me like I just performed on the biggest stage in the world.<\/span><\/p>\n

She plays the melody\u2014slow, uneven,<\/span><\/p>\n

her tongue poking out in concentration\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

and I follow her lead<\/span><\/p>\n

like she\u2019s the master and I\u2019m the student.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We sing the chorus together,<\/span><\/p>\n

her voice soft as a prayer,<\/span><\/p>\n

mine rough with years I hadn\u2019t lived yet.<\/span><\/p>\n

She leans her head against my arm<\/span><\/p>\n

like she belongs there.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My little Mo.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Then\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A sharp breath beside me.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cGrandpa?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The piano stops.<\/span><\/p>\n

The bench disappears.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her small braid fades into the shadows of the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I open my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mo is here, but grown now\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

a young woman kneeling beside my chair,<\/span><\/p>\n

trying to smile through the breaking in her eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI heard you,\u201d I whisper,<\/span><\/p>\n

still caught halfway between the years.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou were playing our song.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Her lips part,<\/span><\/p>\n

a tremble in her throat she can\u2019t hide.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cGrandpa\u2026 I wasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her voice cracks around the truth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou were remembering.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I look toward the piano in the corner.<\/span><\/p>\n

Its lid is closed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dust along the keys.<\/span><\/p>\n

No small girl sitting there.<\/span><\/p>\n

Just silence<\/span><\/p>\n

that feels too loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My chest tightens.<\/span><\/p>\n

The memory slips\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

her feet swinging, her braid bouncing, her voice calling me back\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

and I reach for it,<\/span><\/p>\n

but it drifts away like smoke.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I whisper,<\/span><\/p>\n

though I don\u2019t know who I\u2019m apologizing to.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her?<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy I once was?<\/span><\/p>\n

The man I can\u2019t be anymore?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mo takes my hands in hers.<\/span><\/p>\n

She presses her forehead to them\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

and I feel her tears before I hear them.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to remember everything,\u201d she whispers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust remember I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I want to tell her I do.<\/span><\/p>\n

I want to tell her I always will.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the truth hangs heavy on both of us.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Some days I forget her name.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some days I forget my own.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some days the world is a broken puzzle<\/span><\/p>\n

with missing pieces I can\u2019t recover.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But today\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

for this small heartbeat of time\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember her.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember our song.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember the way she sang like she trusted me<\/span><\/p>\n

to always be the one beside her.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She moves to the piano.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her hands shake.<\/span><\/p>\n

She sits, just like she did when she was nine.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And when she plays that first fragile note\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

a note I can barely recognize but still somehow feel\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

I close my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Because I know the memory won\u2019t stay.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the music\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

the music lingers.<\/span><\/p>\n

It holds me like her small hand once did.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And for one soft, vanishing moment<\/span><\/p>\n

I am in the past,<\/span><\/p>\n

she is a child,<\/span><\/p>\n

and the song<\/span><\/p>\n

is still ours.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Before it slips away again.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Morgan Thomas There\u2019s a piano. I hear it drifting through the dim corners of my mind\u2014 a single, trembling note trying to find its place in a song I used to know.   I close my eyes. Everything else is fog. But this\u2026 this I remember.   Small hands. A soft voice. A little girl… <\/p>\n

Read more The Song That Slips Away<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":90,"featured_media":0,"parent":21,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-178","page","type-page","status-publish","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/178","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/90"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=178"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/178\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":179,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/178\/revisions\/179"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/21"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=178"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}