Winter Pockets

Walking in the winter down rows of empty sidewalks
I reached into my pocket, found an old note from you
It read «Babydoll, I love you. Can’t wait to see you Sunday.»
I tried to hear you read it, can’t remember your voice
Was it sweet?
Was it sultry?
Did I tremble when I heard it?
Did you sing softly to me, whisper words in my ear?
So I sit and I think of you
So I sit and I wonder who you sing songs to now