And it was easy to love her then,
in the twilight of her beauty;
the soft grey hours
where we would forever roam
while the specter of her youth
still loomed.

Those late Spring evenings
Were our stage,
And the lonely Chicago streets
Our set,
And I the sun,
Which illuminated her moon.

The green light that was her eyes
Was a beacon
Calling to me
From some insurmountable distance
As autumn slowly closed in