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