I don't know where these words will go - I'm writing in the dark;
throwing thoughts before me hoping some will find their mark.
I chase a moving target, follow footsteps down a street;
the sound of fleeing feelings, of your heartbeats in retreat.

That's pure imagination.  You're sitting by my side,
but even as I hold you I can feel you try to hide,
and more - to hide your hiding, hoping I'll be unaware.
You search your soul for someplace where you will not have to share.

I'm standing in the sunshine and the warmth of summer's play,
you sit in winter twilight and grieve the passing day.
You think that night and day can't meet - we're hours and miles apart;
you're sure we'll never finish, so it's senseless then to start.

I've walked the path you travel, I know the way along.
It's rough and cold in places, and it's easy to go wrong.
The crossroads of our journey's just a little further on,
where night and day become as one: I'll meet you at the dawn.