It is strange how many people write about love, even those who wander their parched wane wrinkled faces in the city streets, but never those who bask in the spring sunlight, leaning at old cars forgotten outside the offices whose working hours are yet to end before sunset.
The following poem is as fresh as the bread I have just bought, though the seller chose the sorriest-looking loaf, misled by my appearance:

A Song Of Love

I song of love I hear in the branches,
in sunshine bounced off by green spring leaves
A song of love I hear in the high planes,
their trails mingling with the clouds in the breeze

A song of love in sea waves beyond vision
A song of love in people on their way
My song of love’s in every springtime image
I won’t sing it, but in my dreams it stays

I’ll give the grass the love of grazing spring deer
I’ll give the deer my love’s hunting heart
I’ll take from them, for plenty love, their fear
I’ll leave to them the joy they’re last to love

The earth, I will embrace with poems
The spring’s birth, I will cheer up
The birds, I’ll awake with songs, stories
The people, I will give my whole love
V.P.T. 29.04.2008