The step taken, too late
The risk embraced, too late
Slipping through grasping fingers
The pain of trying in vain

Too eager and the deer will take flight
Too timid... too timid; always the trap
When will the sting of loss be refreshed
When will some comfort, any comfort, be found

Where can the balance be found
Not in the head, always too thorough
Not in the heart, always too possessive
Will both fight only to lose every battle

She slips away
Only one more tear to be shed
One so tiny among all the others
When will it be my time