I’m singing along,
To this futile love song.
She knocks on my door,
I like her coming back for more,
I have got her number, 154.
She comes and goes,
I guess she knows.
Mysterious lovers,
We head for the covers.
You don’t know me at all,
All you do is call.
I remember times,
I could look into your dreamy eyes.
Feel the future taking shape,
Watching reels of video tape.
Am I too deep for you?
Because that won’t do.
Lying, like a broken fuse,
Feeling cold without my muse.
© Sean P. Ransom, 1st of March 2020.