If You Still Exist

I pretend, on grey days    
that you sit on the bench  
in town next to the coffee    
house drowning in a book    
   
I recommended years ago;  
you took one look, said it wasn’t    
your tea, but with ease, you'd    
be happy to read, debate    
nuances over coffee    
   
you point back to the cafe    
and invite me in with that look    
I remember long after all other  
dreams between us fade.