The Instances of Winter

They met in circumstances of winter,

They shared beauty and their hearts,

Their secret was short-lived and tender,

Forever marred by their forbidden love.

He gave her pots of fragrant flowers,

Which she looked after in her home,

They walked in parks and circled lakes,

Their future was already gone.

A day came when amidst the flowers,

The walks in parks and circled lakes,

He bent his head towards her slightly,

And gently asked to kiss her hand.

Why not? She told him in a whisper,

Her palm already in his hand,

He touched her lips with his long finger,

And poured passion in his breath.

She laughed, amused, stroking him gently,

Do you believe in your own kiss?

I do, he said, his brown eyes swimming,

In depths of sorrow that stole bliss.

Do you remember, he asked shyly,

The day that I first saw your face?

Did it not mean to you that maybe,

I could forever love you then?

I don’t remember, she said smiling,

The way I felt for you that time –

I just remember you were beautiful,

With black hair and those shiny eyes.

He turned away, embarrassed, angry,

Too crushed to let his anger show,

He asked her: was there nothing,

That shot a feeling through your soul?

There was no feeling, she said sadly –

Only the joy of being loved,

The flattery of holding onto,

This innocent, young beating heart.

How could you hurt me, he was crying,

In this most cruel, thoughtless way –

When I adored all that touched you,

The ground that led your feet the way.

I’m sorry, she replied so sadly,

Forgive me, please, if so you can –

It’s just that I will never know,

What pots of flowers mean to men.

Release me then, tell me to leave you,

And I’ll forever go in peace;

But order me to stay and I will,

Forever be unable to resist.

I’m sorry, I cannot release you,

The woman said with her sad smile,

I love you – I just can’t fulfill you,

In what you dream I could become.

I will not dream of you tonight.

He sighed, his head hung to the ground,

He kissed her beautiful white hand,

He said: I’ll never stay with one,

Who doesn’t dream of me instead.

And so, proud and offended as he was,

He walked away into the winter landscape,

Her whole world sank, stealing her dreams,

Of loving, pain not creeping in.

  

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