Two travelers with different destinations, we met before our paths diverged,
and in that span between our first encounter and subsequent farewell,
we read in one another’s eyes a wanderlust that took us off our track.
We found ourselves in a meadow of grass seemingly never trodden on before,
where we became as two breezy joyous children, frolicking dizzily around
the wildflowers that became our world. Racing each other up a knoll,
we finally and breathlessly tumbled into one another’s arms, growing silent
as we gazed into each other’s eyes beneath a sky of blue.
Rapture soon discovered us that glorious day in the meadow. . .
Later, a nearby river enticed us with its rushing sound, so we followed it.
Coming to its end, we saw the sky grow black and tried to find our way back
to our first spot of discovery and enchantment.
Instead we wound up back on the common path where we’d first met,
parting ways as a sudden rain’s downpour veiled my view of your departure.
Every now and then I stop and wonder if you ever came across a place again
that could compare to the rapture of our time in the meadow.