March 22nd.

With all the words said in passing, 

I thought we were reminiscing

On something like love everlasting. 

 

But this is how it goes - 

I let go, because you let go, 

And then here we go, 

Rounding bases again;

Just trying to find our way home. 

 

I dive headfirst for the plate,

Thinking I might be safe;

But it seems always, 

I’ll be seconds too late. 

 

It’s not that kind of everlasting;

Because as I’m rounding third, 

Finding my way back to you, 

As I always do, 

You do what you do, and - 

 

You’re sobering up at the plate

You’re looking, reflecting, and now regretting,

And I’m just a second too late; 

I think you knew this, all throughout 

When you throw it down, the tag 

There lays your girl, she’s - 

 

Knowing now it's just you, regretting - 

It’s the tag on the play, it’s on me, 

She’s out! 

 

A swing for the fences,

Running and rounding, senseless - 

There he stands, now regretting, 

And that’s his kind of everlasting.