Chances are when stars unfold their silver lace above the night,
I’ll hear your name in every hush the moon keeps whispering.
Chances are the wind will carry every note we almost sang,
and lay them soft along the path where once we walked unafraid.
If morning finds the dew still clinging to the quiet of your leaving,
I’ll breathe it in and let it stay, a promise wrapped in silver-gray.
Chances are, in every breath of dusk that lingers without you,
my heart will still be counting steps back to the moment love first knew.