A turn of phrase
 A wistful stare
  To hope within
   For kin to there
A lost soul
 A wasting love
  The unaware
   The carrion dove

To pass a year and humbly wait
To walk but to not pass the gate
Stir not the ashes on the grate
And on hope the starving love must sate

An innocent glance
 A sing-song sigh
  An unreal chance
   No question why
A victim of self
 A villain of heart
  A death by stealth
   A wisdom impart

To pass two years and humbly wait
To hope once to pass through the gate
Glow then embers, 'pon the grate, 
And hope the mind on heart won't prate

A lock of hair
 A fallen tear
  A beloved keepsake
   To bay the fear
A dancing flame
 A twinkling star
  A love of pain
   But the feare'd scar

To pass over a year more to wait
To despair to ever pass the gate
To douse the glowing, duste'd grate,
To realise now,
                no,
                    never,

                           Too late.

	- "The Losers (Sharon's Song)"
	  (c) Talen, 2001