You would be real
and I would disappear
softly as the dew on
an autumn morning.
If we met,
you would shine
and I would fade
like the high clouds
on a summer’s day.
If we met,
your heart would pound
like a steady drum in the parade,
but mine would knock softly
on the door of your little house
(empty now because you are
off meeting me).
If we met,
only one of us
would be free from regret.
