How simple it was to be in love then,
when we were only a boy and a girl.
Imagination had magical powers,
a cloth of bright colours,
shot through with silk
reflecting the light.
This was a love
that belonged to the fields,
hidden hedgerows,
sweet scented bowers
furnished with branches,
bean can cups, ivy,
pebbles and leaves,
a paradise, of glorious hours,
where summers haze
wrapped us in dreams.
Now that I’m older,
after long, tiring years,
all that i saw,
all that i felt,
showed me less about love
than I knew then.
Let’s be children,
so simple again.
The Dreaming Path 