Imagine two people who crossed paths on a corridor.
They briefly glanced and smiled, exchanging some sort of cordial “how do you do” words, the only words they had ever said to each other before.
As they moved away, she added a soft “have a good weekend” which left him speechless, barely being able utter a quick and shy “likewise” in response, while his thoughts had long been to go beyond the small talk, to know her.
“I couldn’t say that I’ve missed you,
Or even lost you, for that matter,
As we are near to perfect strangers,
But my thoughts seem to scatter…
I turned back, for no apparent reason,
No preconceived outcomes, no aftermaths.
Maybe I was trying to run into you,
Hoping we might cross paths.
As time progresses, I know
What I’ve left behind, undone.
I wonder if it will (ever) show
(How) missed moments feel like a “hit and run”.
Inner screams now pound my brain
With slang and profane aplenty
Though I know it’s all in vain,
My simple problem is one too many.
No great harm will come out of this,
A hesitation, a mere mind lapse.
From the quietness of the void,
An urge will all but colapse.
We will cross paths again, I know
I can only hope you won’t be on the run.
Walk slowly to me, and make it show
(Those) missed moments have something going for someone.“
– in “Missed Moments“, a guitar riff with words, in the middle of the night, published a month after the idea was born