Maybe I will move these mountains;
if not now, then I never will.
Maybe I will split the oceans
if not for you, I’ll do it for no one.
And if I ever dance,
it will be a dance with you,
with or without music
I know I’ll come through.
I’ve returned to the “crime” scene;
these streets still carry your scent.
I’ve named them after memories
the “Avenue of our first kiss”,
the crossing of “Hello” and “You’re too late”.
Somewhere in this rain-soaked pavement
imprinted are our footsteps.
In the cruel November wind
I can hear your gentle whispers.
You’re nestled in these city lights;
I can almost reach you when I reach out.
I can almost touch the glass
of your window,
©2018 Troy Towns