Back then, miles hadn't yet pulled us apart,
But dreams already bridged the miles of our hearts.
They conspired to meet us, young and free,
Strolling school streets, just you and me.
My bicycle punctured, yours too, in the dust,
You stopped without a word—walked as we must.
That simple kindness, your steady stride beside,
Still shelters me from loneliness inside.
That school bus picnic, alive with our cheer—
Friends, teachers, feasts, and laughter are crystal-clear.
Mountain breezes carried love on their wing,
I was tired and slumped against the seat's humble sling.
Your arms became my pillow, soft and true,
I slept in peace, deep as the skies of blue.
Unknowing your ache from holding me so,
Now my tear-stained cushion echoes that glow.
Your diary reminds me of those schooldays gone,
Holding the secret you hid, never drawn.
I knew what was written, though pages stayed shut—
I read every line in the glances we cut.
You kept it hidden, that book of our youth,
A truth only ours, wrapped in innocent truth.
Though time stole you away after school's final bell,
These memories linger, weaving our spell.
Many came, many went, like shadows in flight,
But your love's fierce intensity burns through the night—Unfading, eternal, it holds me still,
A flame that time itself cannot kill.

.    .    .