As time goes on, so ink does fade away

And changes wrought are only change when to

false memory compared.  Your ink, your love

shows clear and dark your innocence long gone

when Hopewell culture couldn't hold your mind

with hills of grass so green you'd think them blue

like eyes of green?  or blue?  that nameless hue

and all you think: "Just seven hours more."

Yet still it fades; library ink is rubbed away

Your words profess your love, and yet

the paper's changed.  To you: a gain; to me: a loss

You kept the boldness that I thought too much

and lost that carefree innocence that was

the hallmark of the boy I might have loved.