Ballads can be crazy things
Bringing about stretched musings
& lines from poles that don’t exist
See, he is not fishing for you.
They sit with you for evening tea
Swooning shadows with his cologne
Wrapping around your heart until you moan
& you only call it sighing
They frolic neath a childlike sun
& leave you obvious & glistening
Resting for hours, the lyrics sound!
& there’s not one good thing you’re missing.