Wish I'd met the man who made me
the one who found his way to life
in his own summer of love.
The one who, in a hospital bed,
clasped the arm of a nurse that must be me.
The one who - later - traveled far, then
lay down and cried at my grave.
He lost his way
somewhere between love and life
but, kept me closed up in his heart
and never told, but always thought.
His brain betrayed him
and took his life before I had the chance
to say . . .
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