Walking across a bridge a day in May
sweet water sang
and apple blossom bloomed in the sunlight.
Suddenly you were there as sent from heaven.
I asked your name.
‘Mary’ you said and smiled.
‘Mary, I’m going the same way as you.’
Our hands touched,
I crooked my index finger around your little finger
and a later boldly held on to your hand.
I loved you intensely,
couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go
never had I met a girl as beautiful as you.
On a park bench,
when we whispered words of true love
we knew that no one had ever made love like us.
Our spring and summer didn’t last long,
no money lived in an attic.
Tension arose,
we argued a lot
cried and made up.
But wind of fall grew to a storm
and resentful silence between storm casts
became unbearable.
On a strange a day in October,
that still had faint aroma of summer,
you were gone,
met an old flame who had a good job and a car,
your mother said.
Cried into my pillow, drank cheap wine
was sorry for myself
and lamented the passing of seasons.
Yet felt relieved
we had little in common
now that the candle of desire
had burnt the wick of love.