I feel you near

The pattern of your speech is in my ear
Although I do not hear  you speak  out loud
Shall I say ear or is it heart that bears
The form that  made  your speech have its right sound?

Wherever in myself I find your trace
I long to keep it even when I grieve.
As though, because I do not see your face,
I never wish by sound to be deceived.

And at the end you did not speak at all
Like the baby  while inside its  little nest.
Yet with your eyes you made a final call
As contented as a baby   joined to breast.

And so you went, but left your patterns here.
So with my prosody, I feel you near