Going at seventy,
I must have glimpsed you
in the central reservation
for only a second.
Yet, in the motorway of my mind,
there is so much time;
I see you and see you.
If only you'd reached the other side, I say.
I've said it to myself since -
in the shower,
while lighting candles
on a birthday cake,
in the biscuit aisle of Aldi.
If only you'd reached the other side.
You, who crossed three lanes untouched.
Imagine! The audacity!
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