Old Love Rust Not
I walked across the bridge that spanned
over a white running river; and she was
there on the other side waiting for me.
One day she wasn´t there, she had gone
to Denmark to work as a nurse, but she
had not told me and had not left a letter
telling me why she had gone away.
I remember asking her, or was I begging?
Do you love me? Yes, I love you forever,
she had said, and kissed me tenderly.
And now that I´m old I see that she said
this to soothe my fear of not being loved.
Another spring and forty years has gone
the river is the same, so is my love for her.