More than thrice I dreamt of you,
The little girl with whom I used to play;
You whom I no more can view,
Your child-like image in my dreams so gay.

   Now and then of you I dreamt:
   A sweet child standing beside the school-gate;
   Oft, too, in our classroom realm
   Laughing together, forgetful of hate.

Why I dreamt of you: or loved
Deep in my subconscious the lady-child
Who resent’d me, with me strove;
My childhood playmate I fain reconcile.

   But change I must the word “love”
   For my love was nought but mild affection
   And this I would like to prove
   Mild affection was not infatuation.

I thought of you with kindness
And without any inward youthful fire;
My schoolmate, your aloofness
Did I silently regard and admire.

   Perhaps, your image with me
   Is still the one formed in Primary Four;
   Innocent and young were we
   Sitting side by side near our classroom door.

My memory is fresh and bright,
Of days and years by the wind blown away;
My message, hope, is no fright;
Perhaps, you think my head has gone to lay.

   But I write with affection,
   My ink mixed with the early morning dew;
   Here I send, not in fashion
   My message of goodwill
           And God bless you!

P/S:
To our future I drink here
A glass of water clear – cool, refreshing;
May one day your face, my dear,
I see with the warmth of old remaining