Was the eight after the four?
Perhaps the three past the seven?
I take it time has changed,
Along with my memory

An encryption of numbers
Outlines a path of old feelings,
Leaving me wilted like a flower
With no sun

And if by chance,
The digits align
Would your tone lift up,
Or would I find a stranger, as perplexed as I?

Two,
No, Three
It has to be the pattern,
The right collection of numbers this time