I saw you in my dream, my love.
You were beautiful and young,
the way I remember you.
I remember your dark hair –
your lovely shape,
your body that was worth
throwing my life away.
You were that good.
You wouldn’t speak to me
in the dream.
You looked into an empty
high chair –
the baby we never had.

You said nothing and hurried
away, in the grand hotel
where we were, surrounded by
beautiful, well-dressed people.
You got on the elevator.
I watched you, and that’s
when I lost you.
I tried to follow you
but I lost you. I lost you
on the elevator.
Maybe you had to go –
maybe you had no choice,
but I wish you would have stayed.
I wish you would have let me
love you again.