You could come back,

Like that time where I met you

In the walled garden of a Hollywood mansion,

Your back against the wall 

And roses rising around you.

You could come back again,

So I could know myself in your eyes,

And the long roads between us

Could disappear,

Like you, smoke in fog

A ghost in the snowstorm.

As if that would change each dawn,

The stone rolled away,

And your absence as real 

As the first buds on March hedgerows.