The Day Was 17

The day was 17,
Last memory I have of you,
Was it Summer, Winter, Spring?
Inconceivable it seemed,
Because our stars were shining,
And our skies were blue!

Although it felt like Spring
And … as I write this letter,
Somehow I start to remember,
The weather was cold,
Was wearing a light blue sweater,
And the long black coat.

So it must’ve been Winter,
I’m pretty sure it was,
Yes, one Saturday Winter evening,
When snow flakes looked like gold.

If you count all Winter days
There’s only a few Saturday the 17s
Yes, but of all days,
In Summer, Winter, Spring,
That was the happiest of the happiest!

The happiest of days in our love story,
Every minute I felt wrapped in loving arms,
All the time you were staring at me,
As if you wanted to promise eternal love,
And that’s the last memory I have of you

You caressed my hair,
Moved my bangs from the forehead,
And than caressed them again
You said you wanted to see my whole face,
You smiled, and kept staring at me.
With eyes that shimmered, and an embrace,
An embrace that has remained,
With me, deep inside, untouched, unchanged,
While Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn,
While happy, sad, warm, cold, or in a dance,
That embrace of Saturday the 17th,
It’s the best memory that keeps my soul,
It was our LOVE at its best day!