Of things that are more appreciated in absence.
I saw you stood there, without flowers, bathed in joy.
I hope not see you today, nor tomorrow, nor any day after.
As I know, when I start to dream of you, That’s when I love you the most.
And I cannot dream a living, breathing, doll.
I dream of what came and what’s unsure.
And then I put that in a box.
Somewhere I can no longer see or touch or smile at.
And then I long for it, admire it for it ceased to come to my door.
And then make countless steps, just to be with her in a warm sunny noon.