Suggested by AngryHaiku.

There's a Yeats poem that Karen/Jim/Pam always makes me think of; I'd love to see what the giant brains around here make of it:
The Lover Mourns For The Loss of Love:
Pale brows, still hands and dim hair,
I had a beautiful friend
And dreamed that the old despair
Would end in love in the end:
She looked in my heart one day
And saw your image was there;
She has gone weeping away.