I.

And we stood, together in the warm embrace of flame.

In the morning, dew would set,

mournful doves would coo;

And in those dark blue woods,

you would turn your back, and I would too.

II.

Lost in small thoughts, between moments,

smaller still, I look up and notice now.

Your gait is not the same as before.

The space continues to grow,

the path bends into undergrowth

and I get lost in small thoughts,

between moments,

smaller still.

III.

Nothing is like it was before,

nothing ever was. Today I search

for us, but find blackened leaves,

trodden on, through a worn path.

I don’t want to be fated.

I want to choose. I search the space

between leaves, and remember the Spring.

That is enough.