
I met him when the acacias bloomed,
walking against the river current.
Arms linked under a black umbrella
the air was sweet and damp,
squalls forcing us under branches
freshly budded,
like a dripping yellow gazebo.
I met him when the acacias bloomed,
walking against the river current.
Arms linked under a black umbrella
the air was sweet and damp,
squalls forcing us under branches
freshly budded,
like a dripping yellow gazebo.