Sep 2015
A PAINTING NAMED ‘AN OLD BICYCLE’
She cycled with me and we chatted so merrily
I was eighteen and she was sixteen
Down the hill and across the meadow so freely
The flowers waved to us--life was beautiful and pristine.
'I'll love you forever ' she did say
The words echoed through the air
But too soon after to a foreign land she sailed away
I wrote sadly in my diary--' Love is so cruel and unfair'.
Time opens up a misty past
Like a river life silently glided along
How many first-loves did ever last
Despite love’s first ecstatic song?
This painting touches my heart so deeply
But no tears fill my weary eyes
Old age is but compassion and sympathy
When the heart is sure and youthful passion dies.
prompted by a painting posted in Linkedin
She cycled with me and we chatted so merrily
I was eighteen and she was sixteen
Down the hill and across the meadow so freely
The flowers waved to us--life was beautiful and pristine.
'I'll love you forever ' she did say
The words echoed through the air
But too soon after to a foreign land she sailed away
I wrote sadly in my diary--' Love is so cruel and unfair'.
Time opens up a misty past
Like a river life silently glided along
How many first-loves did ever last
Despite love’s first ecstatic song?
This painting touches my heart so deeply
But no tears fill my weary eyes
Old age is but compassion and sympathy
When the heart is sure and youthful passion dies.
prompted by a painting posted in Linkedin
---
(M/Victoria, Australia)
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