You’d talk of your sorrow,
And your favorite game;
I’d make you smile for tomorrow,
And know everything’s the same.
You’d talk of your dreams,
And the books you planned to read;
I’d draw a line to score our teams,
And care not of where this would lead.
You’d talk of your plans,
And the fact that you don’t have one;
I’d write that I hoped that we’d dance,
And know my words are of things said and done.
You’d come and go as you please,
And listen to my voice in a darkened room;
I’d wonder if you caught the same disease,
And wait for the perfect time for the light to bloom.