Love that once Was

When I met her she was spring flower and pretty
as the zephyr undulating gently through a field of
tulips. But there was no denying I was September
and set in my bachelor way, and my bashfulness
stopped me from approaching her.

Twenty- six years later and she is slim and pretty
in a waxy way, in her eyes I read unhappiness life
was harder than she had imagined her husband had
left her for France, leaving her with two children
and a small grocery shop.
  
We drank some wine, she cried because she too
had been too shy and she still loved me. I told her
loved her too, but I was not true it was her youth
I had loved and the newness of her aroma, but it
was too late and I left her to the memories.