AFTER ALL THIS TIME
After all this time
She should be nothing but a memory:
A smile – a passing pleasantry;
I ask myself : Shouldn't she ?
And isn't it a fact
The brightest memories grow frayed,
And fade, and fade, and fade to gray ?
That's what they say – anyway....
So why does my tired heart do cartwheels
When somebody mentions her name ?
Shouldn't I shrug,and walk away ?
Wouldn't she – probably- do the same ?
After all this
After all this time.