Upon waking on many mornings,
I am, for a moment, young again
and walking these ancient
stone steps of Enoshima,
alive with thoughts of a future
filled with the joys of
afternoon rains and time
for gentle romance.
We walk, hand in hand, her
smile so subtle, so sensual,
so full of the hope we had
for walking the steps of
stones of many nations
in our love affair that
began by chance, but
reality ends the dream
and I could cry, but no more tears
remain, just gentle rain and doubts
about how quickly dreams
disappear through the years.
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