You’ve passed me by a thousand times before
and yet we’ve never met, except in dreams
and fantasy, where I can ask you for
your name, and hopes are true or so it seems,
for shadows far behind draw near — to prove
my fear and say, “like all who’ve left and gone;
so sit and wish or lose her once you move,”
but hope is light and burdens none at dawn.

I search ‘round just for you, and even though
we’ve never met, you know, my love, that I
am yours alone, though lovers come and go
with flowers to impress or poems that lie,
so pass me by once more under the sun,
for love is lost in dreams and hopes undone.