Who played on summer evenings in the park?

I know her face, her ruby lips, her hair.

Her eyes remain the same as years ago.

But then we were but children, nine and twelve

Years old, and innocent.

And so ten years have passed since last we met,

Ten years that seemed like two.

‘tis strange how all these mature our minds.

Who would have thought that I could love you, Liz,

When you were pigtailed and still at school,

So prim in pale green gingham in the Spring,

And tunic, tie and socks in Winter’s gales?

Now all has changed – no more are you a girl,

But now a woman, to be loved.

And as I love you in this grown up age,

So long I to be loved by you,

Elizabeth.