At times she will decline from view
And hide in life's long grass,
Leaving me to muddle through
Towards the bottom of the class.
Yet just upon the lowest point,
From her hiding place she'll spring,
My make-it-up life to annoint
And her treasured warmth to bring.
So thus we play it, to and fro,
Once here, then far away.
Collapsing as she turns to go,
Ecstatic should she stay.
Too flighty is my flippant heart
To keep her here, ensnared.
I've not the means to play that part
And see this circle sqaured.
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