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You appeared to me like rain after a dry spell
Like wroth after a hard youth
Like life after death
And it had been so long
Yet my eye could discern
Less beauty in its object than my memory maintained
So I whispered to myself
'Oh, it's but illusion,
You did well to love him,
He gave you songs to write
And kept you safe,'
And with a sigh of relief I let you go
But you would not go
For you came to me in the air about you
And you walked with me from the other side of town
And you touched me with your hands behind you back
So I whispered to myself
'Oh, it's but illusion,
You were wise to look closer
You have lost nothing on the exchange of face for a soul
Whatever happens now, you have been constant
And let no one say you never loved.'
