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.

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