Where, oh, where does the sky begin?

It is as hard to define as ‘success,’ or ‘sin!’

These abstract nouns do my head right in!

Maybe the sky starts next to the ground,

Maybe I’ve been wandering around,

For so very many years

With my head in the clouds…

 

Where, oh, where does love begin?

And when, or where, does it end?

Is it a word to apply when I need a friend?

Love comes in three separate types, I’m told,

Each one as rare and as precious as gold.

But less often and fewer,

For those who are old.

This is no country for old men,

Then.

 

It is strange how much I have come to rely,

On words which, themselves, are so hard to define,

On things so difficult to quantify,

Like undying love

And a bright blue sky.