A bit of nonsense, really.

If our life was a novel,
it would be nothing but letters.
One from me, two from you,
three from me back again to you.
And that's how we would be.

The only other characters would be who we mentioned,
who's regards we'd pass along to each other.
Or who we saw in the street
and made one think of the other.

They'd be dated every day,
or every other.
But never more than three.
Until the day you came back to me.

Or I to you, depending on where we be.
Then together we would stay,
And the letters tucked away,

The reader would close the book,
and sigh.
A tear may fall from their eye,
Because there was never a goodbye

One, two, three.
Happily Ever After
Forever, you and me.

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