I Sit Here Alone

I sit here alone;
She's next to me.
Alone in my thoughts
of our life's reverie.

She speaks of the
past life of memory,
not of facts but,
"Do you remember?"

The questions she asks,
my mind cannot see,
without more facts;
who or where it might be.

Giving a place or name,
I say back to She;

I don't know comes back to me.
Answers like this or less,
end in each of our own misery.