I took the long way, turned my face
Skipped the street with our café
The one with music slightly loud
And strangers looking like a crowd
Skipped that street, but not your name
It came up soft, it felt the same
My shoes walked past, but not my mind
It stayed behind, a step in time
That bench still holds a memory
Like it was carved intentionally
You’re in the steam, the open door
The creak inside the weathered floor
I skip the street, but not the beat
That plays you back in every street