Then What.

When I open the door and he stood there, 
I could not believe it was him.. 
I looked at him stupefied the cheek of the man, 
As he was soaked with rain with a flower in his hand
As he was knocking at my door. And ?
I was sitting at my piano when the lantern shown,
I was playing Brahms Lullaby, a dream of love, 
Such a sad tune its there for one to see,
But as the wind flows it blows the sheets of music disturbing my flow,
My concentration. Then? Then I pick that book, 
I've been meaning to read until then didn't have the need to start anew. 
It was called the notebook, and from page one I was hooked, 
Such a lovely story of love of perseverance, not giving up when things got tough, 
Being there for instance. When? when she opens the window to let the night in,
Its so intoxicating the scent of the night. And?
And there she is behind her window pane watching for when he came.. 
I stayed  around just for him..
Whether he knew or not I stayed only for him; Then?
Then I opened the door and there he stood; Then? 
Then with an epic of words, of a beautiful fable real or not,
Written in my words of an ever ending obsession of love..
And ? and then the poet came; The rest is poetry. Then? 
The rain came and hand in hand we run, 
Reaching high with our hands as in prayer;
As it lashed down we didn't care if we got wet or not,
We were soaked through right through.
There was nothing left to be said for we've said it all
With our lips our eyes our hands,
The obsessive hands that would not quieten down.
That obsessive love. The rest Is like poetry in motion..
Then? There is no then. But just now.!