i went for a talk
with one i've never met
down a rose petal path
she called Farmingdale Road

though i've yet to see
i know she sits prettiest
when she speaks soft and subdued
revealing a special, unsure tenderness

and what lies ahead?
perhaps a chasm
perhaps a fall

alone again, i can feel her
like a shadow stretched on the lawn;
running from the sun,
she comes closer to me
as time passes by

and what lies ahead?
perhaps a chasm
perhaps a fall

perhaps it all