I miss "you"

Sometimes you appear in dreams. 

I wake feeling younger, feeling the thrill of being seen, of being understood by one who reads the same books, who can quote from our common favorite poets. 

But then I remember the real you. 

And although I try not to judge, I realize that I never really knew you, for I too was surprised by the choices you made. 

Every now and then your name pops up again: a journal article here, a common friend mentioning you ("what ever happened to... ?") 

And I know now how it has all worked out for the best. 

Lives mingle and separate, and we are left utterly changed. 

And although I wish you well, years and years later, I can finally, honestly tell... I never really knew you.

But I miss the "you" I knew. 

As one misses sweet dreams when shaken abruptly awake. 

It is morning. Real life, and real work, calls.