We stumbled upon each other in an English garden.
I mumbled a rushed apology,
but you just murmured:
"that's the way the cookie crumbles."
A second time we met at dusk,
where you wove your elegant fingers through mine,
and demanded that I'd close my eyes.
Exquisite poetry spoken from your lips,
a seducing, soft whisper in my ear,
as you drew my body near.
I have not shed a single tear since;
and I now know what I didn't then:
it was all a senseless dream, and that at the time I was so very naive!
Still, there are those absurd moments,
where I lust for you to stumble upon me time and time again.