Strolling down 37th and first,
Hand in hand, yours were coarse.
For once, floating I was on a cloud,
Until it’s rain left me to drown.
I didn’t know the boat would tip,
I didn’t think the wind would quip.
In the start, the world was our stage,
Oh, how quickly the tides do change.
Now left I am searching for your clues,
Without my map or any cues.
You were my flame that ended doubt,
Who knew how quickly we’d be burnt out.
Strolling down 41st and third,
I searched your eyes for those three words.
I yelled as hands slipped through the cracks,
Begging, pleading, for you to come back