I met her by accident, a random series of events that let me to known her and her me. She can make me smile in spite of myself. With her I am always on my toes. She challenges me, she inspires me. She makes me want to be more.

It was not at first a slow thing. Intensity breeds passion and I think her and I, well I like to think we had passion. Maybe it was a bit too much too soon. Maybe it was just meant to be more dream than real. I don’t know. We are not together anymore, we almost stopped speaking totally at one point. But, I think of her often now, I talk to her almost daily. We talk of the mundane, the silly, we complain, and we commiserate.

I think I may still lover her though I don’t tell her outright. Maybe one day I will. I expect she may even read this. I can’t predict what will be. At the least, I hope I will know her a long time. I sometimes feel, hope really, that she will in the years to come after I have gone remember me kindly and perhaps with some love.

I can’t help but thinks of Yeats right now….

When You are Old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, taje down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars

Technorati Tags: girl, poem, romantic, sappy, yeats

Technorati Tags: poetry, romantic, when you are old, yeats