What can you see, that I cannot?

Is it something I knew, and then forgot?

Or is it something never before seen by the eyes of men?

Something that will never be seen again.

You look my way, but not at me.

Perhaps I will never know what it is you see.

You give a start and return from your dream.

The world is now only what it seems.

You apologize for setting your thoughts adrift.

And, in our conversation, causing a rift.

Don’t apologize; just tell me what you saw.

Was it truly a world away from our daily laws?

You give a small smile, and shake your head.

“I don’t remember,” is what you said.

Then you pause for a time, looking away.

Them, speaking softly, you slowly say,

“I remember that it was beautiful,”