two am, friday night
wide awake by the sterile light
i pen for a tale these final lines
there’s too much left, stuck inside

across our river, beyond the mist
i watch your shadows fleet
angel feathers through the gale
i hear those whispers cease

so i’ll raise a glass, well, make it two
to the story that told of me and you
A third, a forth, 'fore we hit the floors
‘fore again i hear that voice of yours

too young to regret
too old to forget
let's ponder, shall we, as we bet
for the simplest magnet, yes, it holds two ends

when dust descends, when thoughts depart
will you be there, cries my heart
a teardrop falls, upon your splendor
glimmer in marble, ever so tender

the haze drifts away, away with you
batteries out, screen’s brand new
i raise my gaze, 'till it meets a light
my halo, my blue light.