There's nothing much I can remember about you and me.
We've known each other for eight long months,
have gone to places with Christian friends we both love
sung anthems, hymns and praises to God
strolled in the parks under the dome of blue skies
shared nice and bad foods in nearby restaurants
waited for hours for the last bus
laughed at little things and cried over some petty quarrels.
What else have I got to remember?
Nothing more.
This world was not meant for you and me.
If it was--
I could have sung a joyful song,
I could have filled the empty pages of my life
I couldn't have cried alone in the rain
or chased a bluebird and then lost it in bitter despair.
No, there's nothing much between us--
except for that dream now lost in gray clouds.
From L.R. Blanco's Strings of Words and Solitude
