A Romance of Little Words

Her image and words are still vivid

as I gaze blankly at the dark ceiling;

she wakes slowly, her eyes weighted

a visible pool of drool in her notebook

and as she wipes off her mouth and chin

she responds to my greeting:

"I don't remember you at all,

anyway, I'd like to chat

but I'll be late for my next class."

Her thanks is swift and her absence swifter,

such haste leads me to believe her life is busy,

perhaps too busy for friends.

Though, I felt a bit better as a person.