As you were coming through the door

As you were coming through the door
the one that I was looking for-
a happy feeling flowed trough my heart.
With it´s beating, loud and hard,
it implored to you: “Oh, please, why don´t you come here ?“
And then you were really strolling near
with your hands in the pockets in your pants-
and large bands of ants
were running across my skin.
And- with a grin-
you were listening while I was playing the guitar.

I spent the next days looking at you,
asking myself: ““What more could I do ?“
And when I caught your eyes- that shining blue-
I looked away- and started anew.
Your beauty and grace, your eyes and your smile,
your gestures- the way you move- and your style,
your spirit and mind, your special qualities,
your kindness; Alison, your whole personality
captivated my soul and my heart.
And imagine, an angel from heaven appeared as a guard
in order to protect us from any harm.

And alas, I fear that words can´t describe my happiness the follwing hours
as we were together and our time began- on the “Dom“ and the T.V.- Tower-
as we were both under one umbrella- running through showers of rain-
as we were walking through Lüneburgs little streets and lanes,
as I was holding you- on the tour through the harbour with the fire- boat.
And I can´t forget your friendly assistance for the pages of the Diary, I wrote
and your kisses as we sat on the Bus- travelling over the highways-
and the embraces and hugs all the days,
and the time at the “Fischmarkt“- where you bought the necklaces and bangles.
And I won´t forget your tender caress- in the “party- room“, surrounded by candles,
and I won´t forget any of the minutes we had.

Oh- tell me why had this wonderful time passed so fast
leaving me behind- alone and downcast.
How often I was walking down a street- thinking of something else,
but then I saw a rose and although there were no sounds of violins and bells-
you were in my mind and I got a tender feeling.
And when I´m thinking of you I found myself gazing at the ceiling,
sitting in the arm- chair- with my cat on my knees-
or walking over the frozen river bordered by white trees.
But you´re not here- so to allay my grief
but to paint your name on the window I breathed upon.