There's a ribbon on my pencil case to remind me of you.
I don't need it - you're on my mind anyway - but it's comforting
to have that physical memento, always with me - the way you can't be.

It's like a hand on my shoulder, to gaze at the gaudy pink and know you did, too -
once, when you were thinking of me. And though the ribbon won't bring
you here, at least I can touch it and look at it and see
its fading colours, and pretend it could.