This is the
What if
If that's what
You think it is
A morning
Or a dream
Put out of place
From its what if
Yesterday
I chose it
Out of place again
The way a kiss
Hangs on
Long past its
What if
And what of it
How it rumbles
Some midnights
Or keeps a scent
Not quite remembered
Or never sleeps
Its what if
But lets it rustle
Deep under covers
And when a door
Closes on darkness
Sharp as an ax hit
The what if edges inn