I have stopped writing love poems for you.
And please do not think this is a love poem.
Because I am finally over you at last.

I do not care to relive past moments of us.
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 muted olive greens
And the colour of its leaves
were the exact colour of your eyes.

I am finished with silly love poems
And I will never mention again
How I still stop and catch my breath
when I ihear a laugh
exactly like yours.
Or when
I see a woman from behind
And her hair is burnished gold
just like yours.

I am now quite over you.
I hardly ever think of you anymore.
Except perhaps in springtime.

But then

I should never think of springtime.
For that would surely
break my heart in two.