I met you in Milano,
but I am sure not that is really where we met,
I met you on the heathlands of the wild hills by falls of water sweet,
but I am not sure I really met you there either,
I met you in the mountains past wild boars and making love in springs air high,
but I am not sure I met you there,
I met you in the coach arriving back in the heat,
my dress clammy and my body wet underneath ,
your eyes shining and brown looking into mine ,
blue and green,
but I am really not sure I met you there
and swimming in the warm Adriatico in summers boom
you held me there ,
but I did not meet you there ,
I met you in the Austrian alps each night in the hotel room,
eating cool yogurt and fruit in the mid day sun ,
but I did not meet you there I am sure.
I met you on the aeroplane over the iced sharp alps ,
nervous we as the flight took us home,
but no you were looking out the window
I did not meet you there,
I met you in the Hotel Garden Terme
in the warm thermal waters free
and at night the piano maestro played to the dinners,
but no hang on you were not there ,
you were in your room on the computer .
I met you when we walked in the forests together and in hollow trees,
I seem to remember I really met you there but I am entirely not sure.
I met you by the bus terminal at Milano central station ,
it was winter, yes, the bus ready to go
and I looked through you and you through me,
and I boarded the coach to take the flight
and I saw through the darkened glass your face crying
Oh yes I remember now,
I met you there.
That day you were never the same again ,
a changed man
and I never met you again .