Listening from my bedroom dark,

            winding down the empty road,

voices moan in windy strains,

             souls who wander, now, in pain.

As I try to close my eyes,

             phantoms slide upon the glass...

clinging to the curtains frayed,

            They are searching too, I guess...

For the One they cannot own.

             Then, I fall in deepest slumber,

as my weary heart does ponder,

             "Why we love what we can't keep?"