Boy, I'll tell you what we were.
We were the puddle, but never the rain.
The shadow, but never the light.
Boy, we were the leaves, spiralling downwards,
But never the tree.
We were the whisper, but never the words.
We were sparks, just after the fire had died,,
and only ash and smoke were left.
The quiet expectation between the roaring thunder.
We were a thought, slipping off a tongue.
A question, but never an answer.
Boy, we were always what could've been
Except sometimes, we were.