To see if it’ll come back to me.
If it does, it belongs to me.
Ten days pass, and then some more.
Night and day, by my door
I wait until my heart turns sore.
Merrily fluttering ‘cross the globe;
My thoughts bind it in their rope.
Can it read my mind? I hope!
Does it wait for me to call?
Does it think of me at all?
See the paintings on the wall?
Do I go and call it back?
Do I show it what I lack?
Do I say ‘I need you back’?
I want to go, I want to fight,
I want to stay, I want to wait,
Don’t know no more, what is right.
Is success meant to those who stay?
Those who wait to greet their day?
Or the ones who fight their way?
So I set this longing free
I’d been blind, but now I see-
Perhaps it wasn’t meant for me.