Waiting for a train, my mind wandering,
wondering if what they say is true; if blue
can turn cold gray, if you are only a dream
that turns to dust and vanishes like all
of the others or if you were ever here at all.
I have a heart in my pocket and two cents
in my Levis that say it is real, you are real,
these starry skies are more than a mirage;
river pools swirling I love you’s all the way
to wet beaches where sand dollars glisten,
waiting for you, me, (us) to take them home.