Loving

Who knows how it works, love.

Time passes, but you're still a mystery.

Who knows what you are born from, what you want,

From where you come and where you go, whether

You die or change, if you laugh or if you cry,

If you are in me or the other, what

You see special in the a, the b or the c.

Oh love, you look like a compass gone mad

Pointing to a north that never stands still.

Are we chasing someone, captain?

Or are we looking for that special something

That so many possess but you want to find in so few?

Who knows how it works, love! You are the only

Game of chance that I couldn't stop playing.