Don’t take this as a love poem. I do not care to relive our moments. Like when I saw you for the first time. And the songs of angels rang in my heart.
I will never write a love poem for you again. Like when we sheltered from the spring rain Below a maple tree in olive greens And the colour of its leaves Were the exact colour of your eyes.
I am finished with silly love poems And will never mention again How I stop and my heart skips a beat when I hear a laugh exactly like yours. Or see a woman from behind and her hair is burnished gold Just like I remember yours.
I am now quiet over you. In fact I hardly ever think of you anymore. Except perhaps in blossoming springtime. But then I should never think of springtime. For that would surely break my heart in two.