4 minutes

The song reminds me of you

Clear and distinct

Piercing my ears

A thread of tunes

Weaving through the city

The water, the fog on the hills

The tram, Indian movie and samosa.

The black and white tiles of the diner

“Steak,” I said and you had laughed.

I miss those evenings with you

On the gentle hills

The pleasant cold

The white walls

Of a stranger’s house

The cat we fed.

I don’t know what

I miss more.

The city

Or you.

Maybe both.

They were always together.

Hand in hand.

In memory.

I am afraid

For I forget

What you look like

Only sometimes

The song plays

In my head

Rushing sheet

Of white froth

Again and again

The same words

Loop till they sound

Tired.

And here I am

Again

Missing you.