The last time I was old,

we had a row:

I had a glimpse of the real you,

you briefly saw the real me,

a sad, confusing thing to see,

when you’re in love.

Rose-tinted glasses off, then on again,

the world still changes,

so did we,

we’d fallen out of love, then back we went again,

and if it was too late,

now only time will tell.