I wait for her, she's nowhere in sight,

can't be coaxed out into the filtered light.

She's moody and unpredictable, I'm vexed at her ways,

I long for her to come home, just for a moment to stay.

If only I could lock her up in my mind games,

too swift to let me catch even a glimpse some days.

When she does come, it's always like the very first time,

I play her like a violin concerto while she's still mine.

And in an instant, she leaves my arms again,

no matter how hard I try to satisfy her every whim.

But I still love her more than life itself,