I could have found you
in the crowd,
on a walk through a
busy city street;
or in line at an air-port gate,
filled with other hopes
waiting to board.
I could have found you
absorbed
in a book,
in some café window
I wandered by,
on a day
when any-thing could happen.
I could have found you
in
a museum,
under constant renovation,
in a dim room filled with Cezanne;
or at a rally
for some
important intention;
or sitting quietly
alone,
on a park bench
near the river,
with soft thunder
mixing in the wind.
I could have found you
in
a thousand ways;
but I couldn’t
find you in time.
I could have found you
in the crowd,
on a walk through a
busy city street.
I could have found you
in a thousand ways;
but I couldn’t
find you in time.