She stepped in,
As she was stepping out.
Not that it's her fault,
That's not what it's about.

Seems seldom indeed,
That I've felt so in need
Of this kind of company.
Where does this leave me?
Somewhere distant,
Some how resistant?
There's change in the air.
These winds tousle my hair
And carry a faint scent
Of bitter self resentment,
But that's no reason
To waste my favorite season.

So let's go for a walk
Through the woods,
And we can just talk
If that sounds good.