I symbolically have shorn this lock of me
Sending it to you as history. You receive it
Half-believed, half not still the heirloom
Of my footsteps at the door have long passed
And the privileged standing there with my
Mischief grin and your kind words,
Come in, following which gestured now
Have gone but not the hope and not
The echo of the heart's quick beat
Not the melody of night that I still
Hear bringing me your love sweet sounds
And not the dreams following your words.