she looks back to wherefrom they came
and almost— almost cries his name.
seeing tousled hair rather than moonlit face
travels home at her lonely pace.

he then turns as if to take her hand
and pull her to some distant land.
he is too late. and she is gone
so with sorrowful steps. he moves on.

the moon will wax and the moon will wane
as slowly their love begins to fade.
but at times her heart will burn with pain
as he softly— softly speaks her name.

they will ask themselves in the dead of night
what could have caused such painful plight.
was it just bad timing with chance to blame
or was it fortune’s twisted game?