It was a Tuesday morning.
The boy sat in a chair,
Reading from a book.
He heard the phone,
Looked at the number,
And said, "It's her!"
His face was priceless.
He pickesd up the phone.

"It's over," she said.
"We made a mistake.

He does not want to separate.
His heart is broken.
Tears melt away the seconds.
How long has it been?
Days? Weeks? Minutes?
The boy is inconsolable.
Tears flow.
He misses her already.

He thinks of happy memories:
Watching the morning sky turn pink,
A dance in the street,
A walk in the park.
When had he last felt so alive?
Never would he tire of her soft touch,
It made his heart soar.
Her smile was beautiful.

Why change the perfect scene?
His love for her would last forever.
He meant what he said.
But for her, it was not enough.

So he'd write her a song.
An intricate melody,
She as the subject,
About their good memories.
The music would move her,
Make her dance,
Bring life to her eyes.
It wasn't over yet.