Do you recall, my love, that Tuscan morn,
when life and love stretched boundless, far away
towards a future golden as the sun
that shot his blazing arrows on our wall?
We ran to greet the promise of the vines
that cloaked the hills around with cloth of green.
Our road led past the grapes, tomorrow's toil,
and down toward the village far below.
But, seeking solitude, we left the track,
and there we found an ancient olive grove
that wrapped us in its gnarled and twisted arms
and whispered softly, "Welcome to my shade."
We were not new. A thousand lovers smiled
across the years to see our warm embrace;
and afterwards they shared our simple meal
of bread and cheese washed down with rough red wine.
That afternoon we passed the drowsy hours
together, lost, as in a blissful dream,
enchantment never broken till at last
the softly blueing twilight called us home.
Where have they gone, those care-less summer times
that spilled like laughing water through our hands?
Oh, memory, I beg you, grant me this -
one perfect day to keep forever new.
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