You Never Told Me

You never told me what I should do when I begin to miss you.

When your memories crowd the window of my eyes, what am I supposed to tell them?

You never told me what I would have to do just to see your smile.

How many roads would I have to cross to reach you? How many distant mountains would I have to climb before the day grows old?

You never told me how our story would end.

Would it be that cup of tea, sitting across from each other, just looking into each other’s eyes?

Would I forget the moonlit sky and find myself looking only at you?

You never told me whether we would ever meet again.

On an evening washed with rain, would we walk home soaked like two drenched birds, your hand still resting in mine?

Would we ever swim together in the little pond of our hearts?

You never told me what I should do with these unruly memories of you.

Perhaps you never knew the answer either.

After all, no one gets to have everything in a single lifetime.