Winter must be cold for those
with no warm memories…
we’ve already missed the spring.
I’m the whippoorwill that cries in the night.
I’m the soft morning breeze that caresses your lovely face.
And was it worth it?
The sacrifice for a friend you don’t even keep in touch with?
I used to live like Robinson Crusoe;
I mean, shipwrecked among 8 million people.
And then one day I saw a footprint
in the sand, and there you were.
I don’t think of myself that way.
I am the lead character in my own story.
I like how you name the people.
What do you call me behind my back, I wonder?