Ten years have passed.
Ten years of broken promises, hidden tears.

Ten years have passed,
but songs keep talking about you,
as if you were here.

Have you ever been here, at all?

Ten years wasted
in the memory of you.
Listening to the dead sound of a door opening,
letting you in
with your heart in your hands
"Here, this is yours. It's your hands where it belongs."

I saw you today.
After ten years.

I saw you with a cigarette between your lips,
hands deep inside the pockets of your black jeans,
hair in the wind.
And then a moment;
a second, I swear, where your eyes met mine,
deep brown in the emerald green.
Then you looked away.

But I saw the smile you were trying to hide.
I shy reflection of mine.
As strangers, as they may look,
the same echo was blowing in the air between us,
"Look, there's still magic, even now."