You were tender to me then.
As we walked the muddied and mottled path.
We can walk it now,
Only slower and less silly.

You were careful of me then.
Gazing at the vast gouge, now filled with water
With lumbering ducks racing low across the lake
And a pair of swans, enraptured of each other.

You were happy with me then, less unyielding.
We laughed at the beauty,
Felt the joy of it.
Dipped a hand in the clear sweet pool.

I was a nicer person then.
It was all so easy on the well-worn path
That took us round the lake.
And never once did we try to love.

It came naturally to us then.

Lorraine Mackay