Not Too Late to Love
There’s a spark when our eyes meet across the quiet room,
Like a whisper of something that’s waiting to bloom.
We pretend there is nothing, though both of us know,
There’s a warmth in the silence, a soft, gentle glow.

There’s a spark when our eyes meet across the quiet room,
Like a whisper of something that’s waiting to bloom.
We pretend there is nothing, though both of us know,
There’s a warmth in the silence, a soft, gentle glow.