The same hill, the stones
Large and brown
Obstructing path
As in those bygone
Summer afternoons.
There stood the tree,
That old Plum tree,
Where you tried your kisses,
The first one wet with shyness,
The next ones dipped with passion,
And above all the last one to bid…
To bid me the last good bye,
The farewell from my world
Of things shared
Roads, Beds, Beaches, Sandwiches
And the kisses
That initiated
From your foreheads
Through the lips till
They clad all your private
Zones of the soul.
Sometimes
I would have failed
To remember all these,
And even forget
That secret blue wound
On my heart,
That your kiss placed there
On that blue mist of the
Summer afternoon.
Had I not remembered
That blue sky,
That plum shade,
Those clouds
Wandering, white clouds
Crazy with what it saw
Then and there
Between us.