I know won't have a place within her, and sooner or later I'll be just a face she'll lose picturing to memory, a name she'll forget to speak in her reverie.

But I remember her clearly, the every part of her that has become a part of me.

She would be my every red, yellow and green traffic light, and  yet she wouldn't know this; but with her memory in my every turn and stop,

I know I could go places.