I feel him trickle off in streams
and fogging away in steam
lathering my thoughts with reverse effects
and rinsing out my perverse aspects
fading is the pining which drains and gargles
the obsession shedsabruptly
and the cloth is unchanged
though my mind is exchanged
set on a track which is more to my rhythm
my words, the droplets
your glances, the beads
wiped clean and stirred away
what else to do? with nothing to say...
a battle not won, not lost
never ensued
nevertheless pursued
hope tells the days will be
now that you're out of the way
I can see