She’s in a different time zone, you say?
What does it matter, I love her both night and day.
She’s in a different career, different phase, different world?
Have you ever seen a dessert that didn’t look more enticing swirled?
But the age, the nationality, the different upbringing?
I know what’ll drown out that noise: church bells ringing.
Surely, it’s utter folly to think this love ever has a chance?
Foolish it may be, yet that’s why it’s not called logic but rather romance.