There are no windmills in my heart.
My valves close up in threes and fours,
And keep my beats well spaced apart,
With blood upon its well kept course.

It flows about and back to source
In testament to nature's art,
But lacks another needed force
For turning windmills in my heart.

There is no breeze that brings remorse
As we've been blown so far apart.
A span to thwart the swiftest dart
And make a mock of any horse.
Each breath of air not mine nor yours,
And none for windmills in my heart.

Each sets a sail by different chart,
So still the mill inside your heart.