when you told me you were always going to be there i still write notes to the open air running from the room to tell you looking at that rocking chair i still see your face sometimes people just stare at me sometimes if we ever again collide i still see your face sometimes when we met by that rock you called me your sunshine but your times up and the moon is mine no more rocks of that kind only spaces and wrinkles in time i still visit that rock everyday writing letters to open air as i threw your dust in the wind i felt the drift of your blowing kiss i still see your face sometimes