Haunted, two, the other day,
still hearing things I thought they’d say,
not knowing why, they went away,
ashamed of why, still here this day.
If these are two, of them, undone,
into their pasts, we’ve met, but none,
yet through their eyes we saw, as one,
a glimpse within their setting sun.
These haunted two, we met that day,
might still abound that french cafe,
and having been, were we once one,
I’d still be found, awaiting from.
These days we’ve lived, cannot obscure,
the bell that sang, that sound, unsure,
the tree of birds that flew away,
the rain of shards, that came our way.
And so, on stool of thought I stay,
awaiting one more thoughtful fray,
as to the rest, I’d say of none,
I too am blessed, a setting sun.
But from that past, I’d wish away,
that bell that rang that awful way,
and reaching out to find of you,
my sun’s surpassed, my soulmate, who.
The one I’d waited, met that day,
this brilliant light, that french cafe,
until, at last, my thoughts of you,
my love, my last, my thoughts too few.
We haunted two, we met that day,
and still abound that wrecked cafe,
and having been, where we were one,
I’m still be found, awaiting from.
If we are two, of them, undone,
into our pasts, we’ve been as one,
and seeing through our eyes we saw,
that glimpse within our setting sun.
Haunted too, the other day,
still hearing things I’d wished to say,
and knowing why you went away,
still wishing, just, for one more day.
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