Love Birds ~ Brent Harris
Who could predict that it would rain
On the day I met you, that one time
With newspapers held over my head
So you would kindly offered to share
Your umbrella, with its Caillbotte art
It might have been Monet’s waterlilies
I don’t quite remember, except we ran
Under the awning; we talked, rain fell
You tell me it was a warm summer eve
I sat on a wall, looking young and lost
Your cohort distracted, you said hello
I looked up, hello; you offered to share
Your sweet voice and beautiful smile
We talked over the coffee you bought
I peered, the depths of your eyes, soul
Yet it was another life, mine or yours?
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