Do you think of me
when you're sitting
beside the woman who has always
stood between us?
Do you dream of me
when you lay down at night
beside her?
Do you taste me
in every kiss she places
on your lips,
longing for what has always been
in the wrong place
at the wrong time?
Was I on your mind
when signing your name
on that dotted line?
For I will think of you
when I'm sitting beside
the father of my children.
I will dream of you,
when I lay down at night
beside him.
I still taste you
on the lips of those who
have been
and those yet to come,
and you will be on my mind
until the end of time.
So make me a promise
and dream of me and the
simple times
when maize was on our shoulders
and mud was on my boots.
