The Problem with What If

At night when I put the dog outside,

I always wonder what if,

What if I turn around in the mud room to go inside

And I see you outside the door

Standing still watching me.

Frozen from the crisp Autumn air.

And what if I opened the door and let you in?

I imagine clutching on to you to see if you were really there.

At night when I'm in the mud room,

I always wonder what if you were really there when I turned around.

And everytime I think like that,

I turn around to an empty doorway

With nothing but shadows looking back at me.