That young woman said with hope in her eye,
“If you truly love someone, set him free.
If he fades away did anything die?
Yet if he comes back … Was it meant to be?”
Freshmen … freedom … encumber or smother?
We didn’t “date” those early college years.
Holidays, weekends, we saw each other.
I never reflected. Did she shed tears?
Two years later I Eurailed the summer.
Posted a dozen hand-written letters.
Perhaps within: an ember, a murmur?
Again we dated! But were “we” better?
My obliviousness didn’t soften.
Still saw each other. Not much more often.
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