Sitting, patiently – in the street
A special figure she plans to meet
Over and over of shuffling cars
A man steps out, ready to greet

Standing quite tall – in draping dress
A man unowned and speaking less
His arms reach out like open bars
To fix once more the grateful mess

Talking through – in straight line
Of all the moments she said ‘it’s fine’
Bottled up in empty jars
Wondering why there was no sign

Rolling hills – inside the cave
Never once was she this brave
Letting emotions take more control
As she left her words at his grave