You're nothing but a blur as you pass me,
but there was something special about the way you moved.
It struck me like how lightning strikes a tree,
and leaves it to burn from the inside out.
I think I remember you.

Forgive me for stopping you here,
but I swear we have met before.
Didn't we once sit under the tree that we held so dear
in our young hearts, by the banks of the sluggish, brown river?
Do you remember me?

Your eyes stare back at me so blankly
and I felt my heart sink like those stones we once skipped
drowning in the sluggish waters when you said so frankly
that you have never seen me before.
And yet I remember you.

Why do I remember you
when you don't remember me?