Suzanne:  by Leonard Cohen

 
Time, too slow, night is falling.
She is coming. Her steps are
soft like rain in the springtime,
her smell is like a lily of the valley
in the morning. Her eyes, like
tranquil pools. But my eyes
see only the motion of her lips.
Her voice is like music, drawing
me in like the doomed ships of yore.
We kiss, that great dam of
emotion bursts, a tsunami of passion
floods my being and I am
swept out of reality into the moment.
But the moment is fleeting, the
passion recedes yet the music
continues, to, once again, draw
me to that shore of mystery.

Leonard went through many relationships
looking for that Suzanne. The closest he ever got
was in his songs and poetry.