I passed your street, the night was still,
And all I felt was what we will
Never become, though once we dreamed,
Now lost in time, or so it seemed.
Your face is fading, soft and slow,
No hand to hold, no place to go.
Yet still I hope in some new day,
I’ll see you old, and hear you say:
“I loved you once, I always did.”
But love like ours stays gently hid.