In summer heat, the long winter cold is forgotten
the pain of labor too forgotten the moment
birth is done, how soon the victors forget
the vanquished in their celebration
how narrow was our escape
you’ll never know for that
secret I will take with me
to my grave, we passed
each other walking
in the streets of
Paris lost in
in a crowd
and perhaps
out of context
and thirty two years
gone by had we collided
would we have even recognized
one another, probably not and perhaps
so what, we were once two lovers, whose
love would last forever so we told each other,
and I was ready to sing it from the roof tops back
then where are we now, like clouds shifting shapes
and moving on heading for the rain, it was all so long ago…
heading for a desert whose thirst cannot be quenched ever again

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