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Strange tales of love I've known,
From one friend too many;
And there is one, of my own,
That you may choose to see.

It was on a fading Friday
That we shared a glance
I had a smile, she was grey;
I dared not to advance.

To her I did not stride,
But she was not the same.
I was looking for a place to hide
When I was asked my name.

Upon her, I didn't fix my eye,
I was shy to say the least;
My eyes met the Sun ,low in the sky
With my back facing the east.

She seemed to have lost her way,
And I asked where she was headed.
Not anywhere close, but far away,
From no shelter had she fled.

She needed no help from me,
I learnt to my surprise.
Instead followed me to the lea,
To wait for the Sun to rise.

'The Sun hasn't gone down yet
And till the rise you wish to wait?'
It was laughable and I did fret
But she moved with a swifter gait.

I did follow her to unbeknownst land,
She didn't look, but took my hand,
I recount myriad faces looking at me.
As if I was the only one to be.

It wasn't a dream, the tour
Which ended with the light of the day,
I was far from home I'm sure
And she was far, far away.

Her allure haunts me as I write,
Maybe she is here, to my right.
It's not her absence that I grieve,
It's the presence I refuse to believe.