Each day we pass, each time we ask, yet still we are untied

we walk alone, think alone, and yet still it hasn’t come to be

I think of you, you of me, but it just isn’t enough

When tomorrow comes, and opportunity runs, will we give up on such futility

Or will we pass, and dare to ask, if it could ever again be alright?

I think of you, thinking of me, and it seems only to fade

Another day, another way, the moment in passing is gone

We let it slip, probably because we wanted to, but still the unease remains

This morning I walk, see a smiling face, and for the first time in months, don’t let it goto waste.

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