Well-worn memories sit,
Nestled in thorny ember river-reeds,
Not too far from your open hand

The water was cold, the pavement further down, slick,
When footsteps came and stole your name,
Such sweet, soft melancholy was found,
In your pocket, further down.
They saw a smile instead of a struggle,
And forgot about the water in your lungs

Now, the impression of your unseeing eyes watches a family dine,
Watches every life from higher up,
Every wall white and pure,
Such skin paler than all,
To see people you’ve never met,
A strange life from the one
You might have lived

Slipping, dripping from a different mind,
Someone saw your face.
The river still sings blue,
And the city still stands,
Dust-covered and ever-changing

Now a million hands try to keep you alive,
And a million minds wonder of the streets you’ve walked.

Your reason for leaving
Must have stayed the same.