Poetry

There was a strange kind of living time
a kind of experiencing joy time

when I was boy and the world was still young,
when you for me you had lost your meeting time

all of joy, our sweet love was away flung,
as to our love it was the end of time

but never in shame was my head low hung,
and for friendship I could always find time

but of your friends I did not count among,
with years we did not notice passing time

while you did not know where you do belong
we were ready for the effect of time

but still life was like a great kind of song
and now for us, for life there is no time.