One

Written by: George Oxbury

One cold October morning long ago;
I wandered, without purpose, through that gate.
My mind was full of anger, even hate,
But all at once you came to me, and so…
The odds were slim, but then I didn't know;
Our meeting must have been of wondrous fate.
And so it was back then, but now too late;
There only was one chance for this to go.
I still remember times which you might not;
So small, yet such remarkable insight.
My hopes diminished, though; they're all but gone…
Those possibilities I never forgot.
Time passed in darkness but it still shines bright
And I still know that you're the only one.