A song for all but this symphony is ours,
Dancing with life, improvising each step as the rhythm changes.
Meeting strangers upon strangers; pass me byes,
Looking into their eyes, a foreign lyricism.

Desolate to the ears, waiting to be inhabited,
By the colors and textures in tune with our orchestral composition.
Then there was two, a composite, an unquestionable familiarity,
Interlocking by fate, signaling the end of our lonesome, our endless quadrille.
© K_The_Lyricist