Longing Lovers

They've always wondered when they'll ever meet,
wake up in the mornings under the same sheet,
walk across a horizon's lapping wave,
sweetly hand in hand as one memory to save
For the routine has gotten old without someone to hold
And the walls become dull without a smile or a scold.

What of it of two perfect loves,
singing the same song as a pair of doves
Walking parallel lines that are governed to not traverse
but breathing the same breeze that had carried their whispers.

They will never know the wrath of fate,
its mock and slient humility born innate
for chance will never play a tune for them to dance
so that rhythmless the two can attempt to prance.
Believers of Destiny say it is never meant to be
but believers of Love will try relentlessly.

And still, even unaware they will always seek one another
connected and weaved, waking and sleeping in the same hour.
Whether it is in dreams that will mark their meeting place,
Or the strumming of both hearts at the same pace
it is only different places but the same sky,
different scenery from the same height,
different wishes upon one single star,
different doors entered but both left ajar.

The coincidences of longing lovers
live on stray hopes that always flutters.