Brooding by a quiet, hollow evening
Abandoned by the sun that set too early
Mute voices stepped tender in his proud head
Of hurts, longing and forgotten dreams..
Will he ever find her again?
She was so perfect, made for his senses
Was he right in keeping her away?
When no one could ever wake him like she did..
She had come to him on chance’s arrow
Said she had been moving to him all the time..
Bound to a life of conventions, he couldn’t move
Holding back, when she never would have taken.
Tears for a soul that had walked to give
A quantum phase in his lone, distant life
Turning back though for a final moment
Both their senses rang of cruel losses...