Each winter for some years
my job took me to the blue hills
where in a sleepy remote town
I had met you.
You told me simple stories of your rustic life,
how to cross rapids in stream, chase butterflies.
I took you on a journey of urban fantasy,
told how to climb the high-rise, fly in the sky.
In the last winter of my job there
when I met you in the glow of the setting sun
I saw your radiant face trying to express the unsaid,
I knew what.
Your eyes said it all when I said goodbye,
as I saw your dreams flowing away in tears,
‘you misunderstood me’, I said silently,
‘I am sorry’.
April 28, 2019
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