Dangle Our Feet

If I could be anywhere I’d still be right here Where we once stood together Chatting, Laughing, Forgetting the time. We would sit over the side And dangle our feet And count birds as they danced over our heads. We never came without Bread for the fish, Or baloney sandwiches for us. Everyday at noon, that strange man still comes. The one with yellow pants and a stringy grey mustache, Who always muttered, “Mighty fine day, I reckon.” He doesn’t mutter anymore. He just passes by and pretends not to see me. Well, You know where to find me, When you finally come back home. I’ll be here— And then you will be too. And then, Maybe, Things will be the same again.