he held a lark and appeared sagacious
in the Plaza de Santa Ana
under an azure Spanish sky.
I took a photograph of a portly soul
just staring from her picturesque balcony,
the branches of trees wore spring clothes,
sun caressing our hair on this gentle stroll.
We paused at an alluring cafe
drinking cold beers on a mid-week afternoon
so that the crowds were sparse
in much finer times than today.
My dear, where did your laughter go?
you were so contented then
but I was blissfully unaware
that your eyes would lose...their loving glow.