But you are the mist

 

I try to find you

In the worn out pages

Of my diary,

I try to find you

In the withered flower

In my diary,

I try to find you

In the last metro to town,

I try to find you

In the poems that I write,

I try to find you

In the smell of the coffee shop,

I try to find you

In the perfume that you used to wear,

I try to find you

In the flower arrangement,

I try to find you

In the morning mist,

But you are the mist.