I thought it was gold. Then, finally, By the spring, encouraged, pale, In his heart a nightingale, Presented himself as your man, Walked close to your humbling beauty, Sheltered you on the street, Opened a restaurant door, Dazzled by the fireworks of your smile, Asked you for a dance; when Your friends arrived. Being older He promised acting as if you just met, Rocket in his stomach. Even lifetime’s stolen moments pawned Now, no one to share his silence. Founder in the days without her, he is, According to a precise description, Thinking to himself; he should resist Curling up in his woes. The way to him is very long, The pew is facing the wrong way, He is afraid, will not believe the words: So long sweet love, thinking of you, I spent your iron I thought was gold In my love's luxury.