It was always too late for us, my love,
Cold winds blew our dreams away
Before we could even say, 'I love you so'.
Along these empty streets wind once scattered
Snow in the icy air, screaming at me: she's not there;
I took you into my dreams before I even knew
You existed and all the twists of life abound
Up with you. But who can see the end of life?
In this storm of wind and cold and being young?
Do not tell me that the stars still shine,
They are just God's bad joke at our expense,
Life is lent, not given, borrowed on a whim
From accident, hoping serendipity is master
Craftsman of our whole intent. But luck and chance
Conspired to come too late and fate, as usual, took over.
That cold body in a lake means a life and love lost
At such a cost that we are left bereft, strangers on a far shore,
Far from where the lore of life and death is taken at the flood;
It is now too late to recreate, the blue-remembered hills of home.