Sometimes lovers are separated by centuries, not just by distances. They lost each other then and by fortuitousness they meet again, in different places, but the same self aroma that they have craved so long to be together, just for an instant, and feel on their skins the warmth of each other and that explosion that will transport them to that ethereal world which nobody can enter and disturb them.

She could had been the girl next door,
the one waving for you to see
among a multitude of unknown faces,
the only one that was important to me,
but she wasn’t the girl next door,
just a name in a letter setting me free.

We are a world apart, and yet, together
we are, is the way she makes me feel,
sitting in a bench looking at the river,
that sitting besides, her strongest wish,
with snow in his temples a soldier man
that traveled from back centuries to here.

Near the place a brother ‘s shot in anger
against another brother what the first,
setting aflame that gentle yesterdays
to give Mars god his carnage war burst
and killing the many seed of true love
with man’s most diabolical of all curses.

She could had been the girl next door,
and perhaps in other times could she
expected return from the field of war the
gray coated shadow that could had been
the arm around her trembling shoulders
and that wished most of all, his kiss.

Centuries passed like years without end,
and they, by fortune’s caprice, again meet,
separated this time not for man his war
but a distanced that crossing can’t repeat
life of the man that crossed so many eons
nor that of the woman that cried to be free.

But their souls are there, hands holding hands
smiles are shining, no cause to be discreet,
they will melt into each other, so tomorrow,
in an ethereal world where lovers are wandering,
he could tell with eyes holding no more sadness,
that she has dried with her love his last tear.