A Brief Encounter (Somewhere in Europe)

Under the stare
of the palace guard
you held my hand.

You felt warm and yet
you trembled. I fumbled
for words, all lost,
like the leaves
of figs,
all gone.

Washed away by snow.

Two souls found still waters
in the strange company
of each other;
stumbled on snippets
of happiness in the Northern Way.

Amidst the dying chill
of the fading winter.
A case of serendipity,
could this be?

It seemed that we are both experts
in building landmarks
out of debris from disjointed cultures,

And so, built did we in two weeks
our own castle, gargoyles and all.

Until we realized:

we are not good at goodbyes.