We sat in the park a packet of fags and
a bottle of wine, on the back of a napkin
I wrote her a poem of love.
While struggling to find the right words,
I hardly know her, she fell asleep, wine
of good quality can be strong.
I counted my cigarettes, had five left
but saw the light of a night bar, so I left
her there sleeping, went and had a drink.
When I came back she had left, my poem
written on the clean side of the napkin,
was on the ground torn to shreds.
Comments about this poem (Mysterious Encounter by oskar hansen )
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