When she was near me I never heard her.

Now I roam about with her memories in my eyes.

If you cry today after losing her, what is it?

Then, you did not notice her smiles, her cries.

Why should I not bring her back into my heart?

Her tale is so much like my own story.

Sometimes it is a tale, sometimes a scent, or it’s merely a look

That sends me back to the moment of our glory.

Life’s a strange journey of discoveries and embarrassments

That then hardly discoveries or embarrassments are.

It is only after things are over, and we are left lonely

That we notice the sky, the moon, and the star.