It's impossible to catch the north wind that blows,

Or quick snatch the breeze from a lover's sigh.

It's inconceivable to pause rain as it falls,

turn the tide of tears that a lover cries.

 

It's hopeless to reverse the direction of time,

Realign the planet's path in the sky.

It's unthinkable to relive a love now past,

acknowledge our truth: Let sleeping dogs lie.

 

It's improbable we could use a rainbow's hue,

to colour our grey-scale love and disguise.

It's unlikely we'll rekindle passion's fire,

Those flames are extinguished: We watched them die.