Like fresh spring daffodil
Bursting through frozen ground
You appeared by my side
In the summer of '11

On a rainy afternoon
As we listened to the Marxists
And those who merely warned
The end was near at hand

You asked me for the shelter
Of my newly bought umbrella
I absorbed your pale blonde hair
And eyes of powder blue

An Imam raved and ranted
You must have been nineteen
I struggled with my conscience
Every time you smiled

If the end then truly came
As the speakers said it would
I'd have kissed you on the spot
My luck was not that strong

So I watched you walk away
Despite an implied offer
Turned to face the Marxists
Left my heart with you.