The gentle tread of the candle's flame, Casts but frail images of your reign, Over me, over memories once adored, Of empathy you once poured.
Those eyes don't welcome me as they once did, No longer do they long for me, amid, Loud troops of folly and indignant spirits, Welcoming me, as their only merits.
That warm embrace, I do again implore, To be lifted, to be enthralled, or, Simply say that we were meant to be we, Lovers, Friends, anything but indifferent to me.
