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Love awaits on the street corners,
early, shy, full of flowers.
They watch them pass in silence, without touching the skin,
then they go off to dream, in an ethereal swaying.
They never touch, they are shadows of illusion,
they evoke memories with sweet song.
Burning in the mind, like a dancing flame,
They linger in the soul, in constant lover.
They spring up in youth, fresh as the dawn,
They glide in whispers, in the life that enamours.
They paint the sky with colours, on a fleeting canvas,
early loves, eternally capable.