You laid on a towel, eyes glued to a screen
That phone was more interesting than me,
And you missed so much because of it
You missed the ducklings that swam by
Missed the giant pelican that landed on the cypress tree
You missed the way the current changed with the wind
You missed the croaks of the alligators
Missed the sounds of acoustic guitar and James Taylor
You missed the way the sun light hit my hair
You missed my brown eyes trying to find yours
You missed the conversations we could have had
You missed the tiny moments that make a memory
You'll remember a boring day or texting someone else
But I'll remember the birds, the music, the water, the smells
I'll remember the conversations in my head
And I'll remember how you weren't a part of it