If she knew just how much time

I spend thinking of her

I’d probably never see her face again

But I can’t help but wonder

when there’s little left to do

and my mind begins to wander her direction

Something about the thought of her

gives me inspiration

a little bit of substance I can dream of

Though fleeting and ephemeral

the thought that somewhere out there

she carries on through this same world

and all its fruitless struggles

is something I can cling to

even through the darkness

and though we may never be the way

my deepest dreams desire

I can take some solace

in the fact that she’s still out there

our paths still set to cross again

as sure as dreams are made of…