I’ve come to pass the time by thinking: things that could have been, things that should have been and things that never will be.
I stop on the moment, out down by the sea, when we could have been, should have been, never will be we,
Because you are you and I am I, and that’s the way things ought to be.
But I can recall that walk on the shore, the sand in my toes, the brush of your hair, and the touch of your hand.
The spark was there, it hung in the air and lingered for awhile.
But our cares were too great and the spark smothered out before we could kindle a proper fire to sit beside when we are old,
And whisper sweet things in worn, weary words, content in the life we had lived.
I’ve come to pass my life by thinking of things that could have been, things that should have been and things that never were.