I lost her. She’s a weary kid.
I lost her on a rainy night.
I liked her. No. I loved. I did
While she was still within my sight.
The candles glowed in the dark
And actors chanted on the stage.
I tickled her just for a lark
And feared her desired rage.
While having long-desired rest
And drowning in an armchair tide
I surreptitiously caressed
Her fingers on the outer side.
And passing fingers on her palm
I felt hard-carved Life line of hers
And smiled-I was so sure and calm
That she live long in a good cause.
But Fate picked out another weft-
I left the theatre at night.
I lost her:one glove on the left
But no double on the right.