Sometimes, we are friends

Sometimes, I think about you quietly,
And the rustling of the trees is your dress.

Sometimes, I dream of moments together,
And the sunlight on the stonework is your hair.

Sometimes, I reflect on your feelings,
And the scattering stream mirrors your soul.

Sometimes, I recall our conversation,
And the wind is whispering your words.

Sometimes, we are friends,
And the waiters’ eyes say otherwise.

Always, when I am alone,
Memories of you lie so softly on my heart.

© 2010 Matthew Rhodes