you're sitting there, and leaning
over the balustrade, and thinking
there are words on his tongue.
you're smiling there, and meaning
to get up and ask, and dreaming
those words are meant for you.
you're standing there, and waiting
for your mind to stop whirling, deliberating
the lyrics he leaves unsung.
you're leaning forward, and wanting
his pen to start moving and jotting
those words he gifts to you.