The Stream 'story Poem'

It was as if it were just a dream, I went for a picnic beside the stream. There I met the girl I thought was for me, I first saw her beneath the Sycamore tree. She was silent as she stood there, Her legs so long, her hair so fair. We made love there at that spot, Time stood still, I’ve never forgot. It was a passion that lasted for hours, Down amongst the spring scented flowers. She left as she arrived, without a word, I felt truly alive, as free as a bird. Whenever I go back, she is nowhere to be found, The stream flows past, it makes the only sound. In my heart she’ll be with me, I’ve kept her a space, As I recall that moment by the stream, a magical place.