At 7:03

I'm glancing at the clock again,
waiting for the moment when
you arrive to be with me
when the clock hits 7:03.

Arriving with the early dawn,
unknowing of the heart you won,
you sit down and smile at me
as the clock strikes 7:03.

We sit and talk as we always do.
I laugh and joke around with you.
But it's somehow still not right to me,
the way I feel at 7:03.

Good friends, we said; you didn't know
of the feelings that I'd never show,
the way my heart has secretly
longed for you at 7:03.

These feelings I kept well away;
I wasn't sure what you would say
if you knew that part of me
loved you more each 7:03.

I hid my heart, and for a while
I was content with empty smiles.
Yet I knew it couldn't last, you see,
these sunlit mornings at 7:03.

"I'm moving," you said, as my heart died
and the feelings within me intensified.
Before too long, it couldn't be
that you'd no longer be here at 7:03.

Your arm around me in a last good-bye,
my mind still telling my heart a lie
as you turn away from me;
the last time I'd see you at 7:03.

The feelings that have gone unspoken
leave my heart empty and broken,
knowing it's too late for me
to tell you how I feel at 7:03.

But even now, the sun must shine
without you here, oh friend of mine,
never to return to me
when the clock hits 7:03.