When things were new between them
The sparks were wont to fly
But sparks soon turned to fizzles
Till even those ran dry

Unhappy with their chosen flowers
Each will soon replant:
Him, because he thinks she’s changed,
And her, because he can’t

A life is not a collection of facts
It’s real people
With real pains and real joys

When all the joys were gone
And the pain constant
She went searching

To find… something,
Something she’d lost

And on shores something like those
She’d walked in childhood
She found it