A little poem

In the softness  of may 

you were waiting for me ,

 So many years ago ...

You're now an old lady ,

perhaps have you one or two

grown- up children ?

You've certainly forgotten me ...

How many fleeting  conquests 

I have made on spring mornings

in a park lost in the midst of time 

and the indecisive hours 

in the seduction  clock  ?

What happened to this little poem,

hastily wrote on a page of my notebook ?

I read your smile's message ,

young girl already won over ,

a little crystalline  chuckle 

and like a delicious  fear 

faced with the inescapable situation,

but just a word,a look, a desire ,

a confused season cloud  passing by 

and you are my  inspiration ...

 We both have  now gray in our hair ,

do you remember this comedy ?

Some remorse and a lot of regret ...

All we have engraved on the bench 

was but a travelling passion ...

This little poem scribbled in a hurry ,

faded into so many serious letter ...

But you were this gift of the present ,

chance doesn't exist  if we want it so much ...