They stole from us this spring
the walks under the full moon,
time by your side,
And dreams they say will have to wait.

They have stolen forty or more sunsets from us,
a hundred kisses and the freedom to embrace;
the hours have vanished,
the flowers and the green paths.

They stole from us this spring
its pools of rain and pungent petrichor;
Nature awakes and all those living cells
call us out onto deserted streets.