The first time I saw you , like missing a stair ,
My heart fell into the shadow of your dance.
Your hair lifted , a punctuation left hanging —
I linger at the sentence end , too afraid to ask the next chapter.
Health code still green , but the days yellowed ,
" Just passing by , " " ordered an extra portion. "
My notes are filled with your routines —
Really just wanted to hear you say , " Okay. "
I stole the courage of dusk but lost to a departing flight.
Earrings spoke for me , whispering lies in your ear.
The music box you left drifts through the night ,
Spinning , spinning , like all the excuses I couldn ’ t voice that year.
How many centimeters has the snow piled in New York ?
The cup of coffee downstairs still steams.
Here , sunrise catches your last night —
A weather forecast where my presence wasn ’ t written.
" Lend me some rain , " " return me a star. "
Later , I learned every chord you loved ,
But the piano keys now only hold
Unplayed missings.
When masks become specimens in drawers ,
When disinfectant fades into nostalgic perfume ,
I ’ ll still remember that quarantined spring —
The closest we ever were :
Two takeout bags , side by side at your door.
