But A Dream

...Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

A beauty, that seeps deep

In depth, she grows colder.

As the fire smoulders in a wintry

Mix

His silhouette appears in the

Distance

Trails of his prints

Left bold

Now they're face to face

In the cold

This cycle gets old

A game of cat and mouse

Freed him of all the weight

The pain of life,

Giving her all

She gave it

With every ounce

Yet he seeks

She's found

Divine in her prime

Aged well as fine wine

His heart couldn't decline

He proceeds in stride

"There's been nights I've cried"

Without her beside

                           Him.

In saying that, out on a limb

His absence,

Her heart,

Called out for him

He swims...

Still,

She's cold

His actions seemed

So bold

Even though

He trolls

       Her emotions

 Fools gold.

I'll say again...

It gets old

All the stories

          You've wrote

Lies you've told

   Tears created streams

And you rowed your

        boat.