In the pavilion, there are many people
All new faces but without the new smell
I want to reach across and grab someone and say hello and know them
But in the end, I know I will just walk past all of you without a whisper

As I said before, there are always people
But today, I saw someone with a purple purse
Now an accessory such as that belongs on the runways in Milan or Rome
But on your godlike shoulder, it looked to be made of crude, lifeless paper

I wanted to go closer but my shirt wasn’t right
There are many days when an outfit is a letdown
I knew that I couldn’t approach your picturesque form without a prominent plan
So I rummaged in my closet, prepared something for the next day, and fantasized

The next day, I searched the entire cemented pavilion
But you weren’t there, until I saw you buying flowers
I began to walk, then trot, and then sprint towards you in anticipation but then I saw him
He crawled up from behind you, held you in his bulging arms, and kissed your rosy cheeks

That night, my tears gathered on my baby blue shirt and turned it navy
I cut up my jet black pants and the loafers, I gave to the homeless man
My visions for our trips, our small family, and our red-brick house all faded away without a hello
You did nothing wrong and if it is meant to be, my eyes will once again be graced by your purse