"Will I have her or not?" I asked the universe.
It replied, "Well... that’s a tough spot."
I suddenly felt hot beneath this cot—
A cot woven with your dreams, your love.
There’s a reason the symbol of love is the white dove.
"What’s the point," it said, "if I make your love achievable?"
I shouted, "It’s making my life miserable!"
Tick-tock clock is running like a mystery,
Remembering your face from dusk till dawn—
Are my longings meant only to become a history?

Or should I expect something magical?
The universe tackled that question and said,
"I’m placing your stars—tactical."

Things that look ambiguous will clear the air
And bring you back in your full senses.
There’s no need to fret over your tenses.
Though I’m not taking any offenses—
See for yourself, and take your chances.

Bill and coo birds are singing songs—
A prayer for your love’s gleaming glances.