We talk of old things, each almost a lie,

Think we might understand each other's eye

We haven't seen; but surely voice has sight

To imagine a soul, in thought lookalike.

I wait for any hour, any chance I can guess

More of the soul dwelling beneath the human vest.

I know at worst this is temporary, if history would repeat itself

And each as others but a story, loved a little less

As time chases eternity; we might as well

Lose love, and have to seek affection, somewhere else.