Old friend, quiet lover,
a silent bond like no other,
please let me know it's alright.

For, I find something's awry!
And no matter how I might try,
my thoughts impinge on my sight.

Old friend, quiet lover,
limpid soul beyond this cover,
please give me a reason to fight.

A whisper comes across
of all the time I have lost:
"Why plead for these things, so trite?"

Alas, as I turn my attention
past this reflection --
I find it's your face, alight.