We met for coffee, it was April
Our mornings were free then,
We sat in cafes on tree lined streets
That reminded you of Paris.
We flirted but made no advance,
We were not serious people,
The seriousness of our lives hadn’t begun.
We talked about love and Hemingway,
We talked about the war
We were sincere
We drank coffee until noon
In cafes on tree lined streets
On weekdays while the rain fell down.
We flirted but didn’t act,
We did nothing worth mentioning
For the rest of our lives.