Him

Now I am walking with him
I consistently see his face
Looking up at me
He wears a Norwegian sweater

His hair is bowl cut
His eyes are eager
His hands hold a flower
Or he holds my hand

Now I am sitting with him
He looks out from inside me
He is hoping someday
That I will join him

A long time ago
The thing I call myself
Left the thing I call him
But he was all along

Coming behind, following
And I never saw him
So, now he has caught me

And I cannot be the same
Again