Hope, they say, springs a new each day,
And though I seek, I cannot find,
A comfort here to ease my mind.
Love, they say, will come to those who wait,
And though I wait, I cannot bring,
My lover here to share my living.
Time, they say, will heal all wounds,
And though I cover up my scars,
I cry at night to empty stars.
Absence, they say, makes the heart grow fonder,
Then our love must be intense,
The space between us so immense.
As I sit here healing, hoping, and loving,
My thoughts wander as I pray,
The endless question circles round,
Just who the hell are they?