I saw your white bus this morning
Sailing down our street, calling
For all your old companions. I wondered
If souls like yours have wheels, if you now
Skate swiftly through that other world. You
Have gone before me; I’m stuck here waiting
For some ghost bus, no longer
On anyone’s list, not old nor young
Neither winter or summer.

Clouds catch the meagre sun and a girl
In a wheelchair not quite the same as yours
Laughs at our dog. Moments link each other
Like giddy schoolgirls and I try tracing
The paths we surely took, the sunny clearings
Where I must have missed something, where
Perhaps you smiled
While I was looking down
Into my bag of worries.