I see a young girl
with auburn hair
and ink blue eyes
picking petals from a yellow flower
as if she��s counting them
one by one
and her lips form
the words
you love me,
you love me not.
Her face is lovely
and sweet
and she��s tanned
by the summer
and slender like a reed
and there are no shoes
on her feet.
She smiles at me
and puts red rose blossoms
in a big heavy book
and closes it tenderly
and press down on it
and I wonder to whom
she is going to send
a forget me not
as if any young lad
would be able to forget her.