Summer After It

It was last autumn when
she caught me red-handed
right in the action
staring at her boobs.
We had had that conversation
about being simply friends
for I did not want to lose her.

She did not say a word and
neither did I.
We just kept on dancing
and talked about girls
in white dresses and
about dreadlocks.

The next day she was driving
and I had to keep my eyes
right on the street and
my mind busy with the
unimportant discussion.

Days and weeks and months
passed by in hurry
and winter took over
and nature seemed so pure.
We had to keep it simple
and we had to keep it sweet
but nothing was as before,
we just ignored the fact.

Some girls passed by
and some boys tried to pull us.

Until the day when
I smelled the first touch of spring.
We ordered red-and-white drinks
and our friends asked if we had
some kind of celebration-day.
The glance was something
and something indeed
was also the next morning
and the summer after it.