Seven Years Ago
— — — — — — — — —
I still buy two tickets to movies
Waiting for hours for her to come.
I still order two cappuccinos
The coffee turns cold and I drink them both.
I still wait with an umbrella in the rains
And I return home with wet shoes, alone.
Seven years have passed since that day
And still she seems around — all the time.
Complaining how shabbily I comb my hair
And how little I speak to her friends at parties.
In such a short time she gave me
A lifetime of beautiful memories.
Like the tongue always returns
To the space left by a missing tooth
I often drift in time to that pretty girl
Who died seven years ago.