I don’t remember 

Was it real life or a dream?

Looked back; I was gone

She sat on a bench in the park when I passed her and I said

Who are you waiting for and she said

He’ll come

He’ll come and I left and I came back and she was still there

He’ll come

Do the see the world as a poem

Do you see it like I do?

Do the words slip through your fingers

Do they slip before you can open your eyes?

Do they slip like I did