Helplessly hoping,
her harlequin hovers nearby
awaiting a word.
Gasping at glimpses
of gentle true spirit, he runs
wishing he could fly
only to trip at the sound of goodbye.
Wordlessly watching,
he waits by the window and wonders
at the empty place inside.
Heartlessly helping
himself to her bad dreams, he worries.
Did he hear a goodbye?
Or even hello?
They are one person.
They are two alone.
They are three together.
They are for each other.
Stand by the stairway,
you'll see something certain to tell you
confusion has its cost.
Love isn't lying,
it's loose in a lady who lingers,
saying she is lost
and choking on hello
They are one person.
They are two alone.
They are three together.
They are for each other.