There is a bittersweet pain in knowing a love which could be overflowing
There is a bittersweet pain in knowing,
a love which could be overflowing,
is lost amid the sorrow of by-gone days.
Ever present in a heartbeat a silent tear,
an endless rending of the soul another year,
how quickly love grows yet it never stays.
Man is a fickle creature with a heart of stardust,
rather than seeing what he has, endlessly search he must,
for what he thinks he does not own.
So carelessly he tosses away the gentle soul,
with time and space his actions feel the toll,
of the love discarded for the now, unknown.