I used to see a light inside your eyes,
A mischievous and frisky sort of thing
That made me look at you and realize
Even your happiness could have a sting.
You had a little touch of what I saw
As recently as when I saw you last;
And yet the little doubts begin to gnaw:
Is what I saw in you already past?
Have you already turned to walk away
And leave me here to watch your back depart?
I'm not sure if I should ask you to stay
To finish something you refuse to start,
Or is it something you've already done?
In either case, I wish it were begun.
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