I shan't ask for what I know isn't mine.
One day's gentle whisper reminding me
Of that which can still tarnish all my shine--
Realization dawning on memory.
Spited silver-grey clouds hovering by,
Shadows of shade identifying all.
Your shape contrasts, illuminating my
Reasoning mind held gentle in your thrall.
So, this metamorphosis will take place.
A logical heart will cease to ponder,
I will no longer see life as a race,
My love lost soul will no longer wander.
Yet, I cannot help but ask a favor:
Return my love if ever you find her.