When you look up at Cassiopeia
The dew just forming on the grass, I hope you think of our first kiss
Mingling with the sounds of children dressed up as fairies and spider man
Trick or treating.
When you sit in the middle of your cornfield,
A king in your golden sea, I hope you think of how our hands intertwined
Tighter than the ears of silk in front of you.
When you see a young girl with silky black curls,
Framing her innocent face, I hope you think of Elizabeth,
Our daughter whose dreams will never come true.
When you hear Elton John's "Tiny Dancer,"
I hope you think of my melancholy voice
Off-tune, belting the wrong lyrics to you.
When you come across the poems I wrote you,
I hope you realize that my heartbeat forever echoes
The ghosts of who we were, lifetimes ago.
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