In the mountains not far away,
There a hermit lives,
Avoiding the things of this world,
And the pain that life can give,
Friends that are not friends at all,
Love that’s given then taken away,
If he lives his life alone,
You’d think his heart won’t pay.
Twice he had love in his arms,
Yet now he is alone,
Deluding himself to never feel,
But through that delusion, love has grown,
Some might say he’s given up,
In some ways it could be true,
While in his heart he knows for sure,
There’s twice the pain, missing two.
Though one love is now a memory,
His second love runs free,
He whiles away his lonely hours,
With the knowledge, there won’t be a three,
Love had been his twice in life,
He held one as she died,
And he watched as the other left,
Tears flowing as she cried.
He has to hold to the love they found,
For his reality, is there’s nothing else left,
At the present memories sustain him,
Because in those memories, that love is kept,
As he walks among the trees,
Each leaf is her hello,
Each leaf that falls to the ground,
Is the message that she knows.