We walked together, found
In town centre, on the mark,
We were a bullseye, joyous,
Shy, striding opened streets,
So proudly paved, just for us,
To trip and now, here faraway,
In white shops we sprung free,
Tried on silly scarves and hats,
Imagining rendezvous in London,
Paris on the Seine, the long boot
Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway
Station on our way for Provence,
Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul,
It was too fun, so brilliant to dream,
In return those tickets got punched,
Now we travel solo on lost avenues,
Waking up is not as nice as it seems.