I see you in the park—
on the road, at the crossroads, near the bench.
I see you on the stairway,
at home, on the sofa, near the computer.

But I can’t see you outside—
not in the graveyard, sitting by the tree.
I can’t find you in my heart—
your soul has left me.

All I see are your eyes,
watching me
as I die.