You Said. I Said. Poem by anasuya balla

i see you standing there
in an old metro station
'red shoes for the weekend' you said
'ah' was all I said

'wont you walk with me' you said
'will you let me not? ' I said
what you said after does not really matter
because I did walk with you

and did share those sunsets
('yes. He did a good job on this one' i said) .
('She did' you said)

and did share your air,
your time, your space
the odd waffle cone
and your grouchy morning awake

what happened after
i still am trying to know
('you dont want it anymore' you said)
('perhaps we never did' i said)

but still i see you standing there
with your red shoes and your wayward hair
you smile that red shoe smile
that i dont want to see.
sometimes why cant time just let me be?