Softly

It was mid-november and I still remember
the way you called to me softly.
Softly, as if I would disappear.
Softly, like we didn't belong here.
With the way the dandelion spreads it's wings
I guess all things scatter into the wind.
You blew your way and I blew mine.
Whispering softly all the time,
about what could have been.