In summers, she served lemonade – breakfast, lunch, dinner.
A cup of poetry for the incurable romantic.
I fear the unknown.
Also me, “Hello, blind-date.”
Her lips quivered as she whispered, “It’s time..”
Nature, a balm for eyes bruised by concrete.
You talked so much, never learned to listen.
They were in separate rooms living similar lives.
A scarlet pamphlet directed the seekers towards love.
They met again in unknown restaurant, unknown street.
“Stop thinking”, if only it was so easy.