I’m still waiting by the gate where we used to meet,
coffee in my hand, your laughter on repeat.
Bell rings, streets freeze, but I won’t retreat—
I’ll keep the night light burning, tracing every empty seat.
Lockers fade to white, seasons lose their hue;
only your name stays vivid in this endless afternoon.
If you ever turn back, umbrella or sunshine,
I’ll be the boy with hopes, holding yesterday’s line.