Young Lovers

Leaning against a gray lorry, his arms embrace slender shoulders
and a fall of auburn brightness in the lamplit London street.
Chin atop her head, he beams at the world.

For one instant, I would, if I could, tear them apart.
Envy spasms like a dying heart.

But it passes.

And as I pass I smile back at him,
agreeing that love is indeed grand;
his grin grows a little wider.

Better luck to you, kids.


M.A. Mohanraj
December 14, 1992