Not Quite Right

As surely as the sun rises in the morning, I know

You will not come to me, oh no

I walk down by the river weaving

Golden roses into my withering thoughts

I will not come to you, oh no

For that you have not grown

Your words are becoming right

But your ways are not quite

I will not be ensnared, my wings

Have only just stretched to fly

My heart sweetly whispers

Go, fall into those arms

But it is not quite right

Sure as the clouds bring rain

And the seasons-time, I know

And so cast my roses into the water

For the river god to humbly place

At the feet of his most dear queen

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[Ed Hart]

i think we've been here before