If you had lived
If you had lived we’d be still talking If you had lived we’d be hanging out at our favorite café If you had lived I’d be visiting you in the nursing home If you had lived We’d still be creating memories together But you didn’t live You didn’t make it this far with me I am left to create memories with other people I am left with memories of you of us I have memories Because you once lived My neighbor says she’ll be 91 next month. A quick calculation tells me she was born in 1928. And I remembered a friend I used to have, who was born in 1929. And started musing on the might-have-beens had she lived passed 73. There are other might-have-beens, too, with other people. Such is life. It contains death. And memories.