Bam
When it feels like night,
the moon gives no reply
Her face, half-hidden from mine,
reflects and does not provide
With a constant change,
glimpses are never quite the same
And yet, here I am,
seeking her out once again
She might not speak,
she might not explain
But without fail, I know,
there she will remain.
the moon gives no reply
Her face, half-hidden from mine,
reflects and does not provide
With a constant change,
glimpses are never quite the same
And yet, here I am,
seeking her out once again
She might not speak,
she might not explain
But without fail, I know,
there she will remain.