On a summer night so clear
I asked how much you hold me dear
You took my hand and got some sand
In a solo cup bright red
"Count every single grain" you said
I did.
I counted every grain, which took all day and night.
I counted them all and
you were gone
It turns out, a cup of sand is not a lot
Even if there were many little pieces
Love cannot be measured
To measure it would be a distraction.