This place looks so different since the last time I was here,
or maybe I was just too dazed to notice anything but you.
Maybe our ghosts have been here the entire time.
Maybe they got their dance.
Maybe you felt the shock too,
and it illuminated the room.
And in November, only in November,
have my feet touched these floors.
In November, only in November,
have your eyes met mine,
your hand in mine.
I know you can’t promise to love me, but promise me you’ll try.