Maybe we had once driven through a windy town to a rundown diner
Where a song about sadness of a past time lingered
in happy notes over fruity tones from carelessly made coffee
I had hoped in this life you’d have more of those for me to see
It is not that we ought to, but only that I wish it were the case
that instead of writing poems, I’d simply witness your blazing haze
Cluing me in on my past lives your eyes had mirrored
behind the glasses of my first encounter
