meandering through walkways,
giggling when another dead-end loomed
(never guessing that soon we’d face our own).
Twenty years on and we still haven’t
found the entrance to the theatre.
The pools stunned to silence
by our spins and twirls,
our hatless heads blessed by solemn snowflakes.
Today the fountains trumpet water and sound.
My life? Turned out fair to middling,
not the bright burst of bluebird I once glimpsed
amidst our tangled limbs on narrow college bed.
Perhaps it’s just me
who lingers on borders of might have-beens,
slurping disappointments along with daily bread.
No mumbo-jumbo of twinned souls this, but
when they open up that wizened walnut some call heart,
they’ll find your name rolled up in a scroll so tight.
Once, when I was twenty, I was not brave enough
to flee with my turquoise-fired lover.
And I’ve been paying ever since.