Boulevard Poem by Dennis Go

We met somewhere, some time
Along the boulevard.
About the trees I've spoken
To let me rid my wiles:
''Tis when my eyes doth catch you? '
In anxious ways she whimpered.
'I ne'er accept acquaintance.'
Said she, with prying eyes.
Out she went undauntedly
Without no word goodbye.

'Twas long a time since then.
Months and months, it seems.
Reviving thoughts along this road,
Images haunt the memory.
The shady trees are still.
The nighttime, frigid cold.
The long way back from nowhere
Ought to strike my mind.
'How is she? ' Again, I thought.
The trees speak no reply.