When I look at the moon from my balcony, I wonder how it would have looked if you stayed a little longer.
When I hear the solitary tap of that old man's stick, I wonder if loneliness was the same before i met you.
When I hear the reluctant silence of night, I wonder if I would have been happier without your voice.
It seems as if that hurried leave-taking of yours, that expectant walk of mine, that evening of wait were all scripted by you while I acted unrehearsed...and now with glimmering airplanes overhead I write momentary pains while you seek momentary pleasures.
When I hear the solitary tap of that old man's stick, I wonder if loneliness was the same before i met you.
When I hear the reluctant silence of night, I wonder if I would have been happier without your voice.
It seems as if that hurried leave-taking of yours, that expectant walk of mine, that evening of wait were all scripted by you while I acted unrehearsed...and now with glimmering airplanes overhead I write momentary pains while you seek momentary pleasures.
