If I were

If I were half a century younger,

the woman sitting next to me,

in the white corridor saturated with the odours of people

confessed:

“I would not shy away from falling in love

with the most handsome guy who stole my heart

as he walked past me in that narrow ally way

with hanging jasmines from the garden behind,

on that sunny morning

of the year happy go lucky.

I would not give him away to the first bidder

who had the courage I lacked

to take his hand and invite him to the first kiss.

If I were half a century younger

I would set the world on fire

to reach his heart and hold his hand

and find traces of longing in his eyes.

Those deep grey eyes with long lashes

and the smile which opened the doors

to heaven of happiness.

If I were half a century younger….”