Three, he said, three who were the ones
Who lasted throughout time
Three who were his love
Ones he thought of each day
In moments of repose
They would last forever in his heart
That’s how his story goes

There’s a story of course why each romance ended
It was always his fault as he now does see
He should have known better, done more
Now he rues the days when he should have acted differently

He’s still in touch with each of them
Which is a form of good
There’s still a connection of sorts
It’s understood there would be no need for these words
But that was back in the day
Before he took the fall
Before his hair turned gray