Nicole: Who were you?
The name in pink on a
purple cross, on a lonely road,
out in the open fields and farms.
Young and dreamy, maybe distant
and angry, maybe on top of the world.
You were loved. You are missed.
The cross stands as winter comes.
The high school is nearby, did a boy
cry when he heard, heard his love was gone?
Does he dream of you at night, or remember
a first kissed shared under a starry sky?
So many crosses on so many roads,
so many endings in lonely places,
so many that can only remember now
those who were the world to them.