It; will come again
No matter when . . .
Even when you are ugly.

It; will cover you,
Not very soon . . .
Later when you are shabby.

How; stupid should I looked,
The day that you left me.

I; should have looked
Like a kid;
As you were bouncing.

How; sham and rude, must I be
To play well as you did.

Who; will ever care,
How the storm were;
Soft or deadly.

You; should be dumb,
Should be old,
Enough
To love me.

You; were smart
You were young
Enough
To leave me.