A silly word

Somedays I daydream of the people 

we could have grown into,

somedays I daydream of ideas

I say out loud or not being that shy

We could have been so many things;

moon light walks and strawberry kisses,

nights full of stars and slow song dances,

long night talks and mobile phone calls, 

we could have been so many things

if we had not been that scared

Somedays I daydream but

it doesn’t quite matter as before, 

your escaping glance in filled school halls

and me ignoring your silent hello at lunch,

both synonyms for what will stay unsaid,

I am sorry but you are too late

I wonder if we were both unable to speak

or unable to move forward, back, at all, 

considering that might be one and the same,

I wonder if we could have been more

than the same three songs on repeat

and eyes rushing away as they meet

Once, once you were almost humming 

one of your favourite songs to me

and once, just once I was almost reading 

one of my favourite poems out loud,

oh, we could have been so many things

It‘s almost funny when you think about it,

how the world depends on a simple word,

how we circle around a silly question,

what, if?