Take me back to when we first met
I traveled half way around the world
Funny enough you were late
But I would have easily waited a lifetime

My memory recalls the wait in between your calls
The intricate art on the ceilings, the marble floor
The affluent mingle inside the hotel
And the beggars just outside the door

Mother introduces her daughter for the very first time
It seems so cold, so calculated, so unnecessary
Surely love must play a part in this arrangement
But no, this is India, that will come later - perhaps

Finally you arrive and nothing else matters
My eyes confirms what my imagination conjured up
My first words are you are so beautiful
Today my last words will be the same

(c) 2007 by Gerard C. Johnson