A Pink Autograph

Oh! Where are my sweaters and my coat? And where is the devil my overcoat? Years ago when I bid farewell to my woolen clothing, I took out all from the pockets but forgot a thing, Throughout the springs I looked for a photograph, Sweetheart, that colorful portrait had your autograph! I had snapped you in a semi transparent colorful lawn shirt, On it were printed flowers narrating the tales of a naughty flirt, All your sunny love songs and a moonlit dance, A hidden night meeting for a maiden romance, The weaver had nicely stolen a teen aged girl's profound charms, Her deep eyes, her pink lips her silken hairs and her round arms, But he had failed to steal the perfume of your shiny hairs, And he had failed to steal the sweetness from your rosy éclairs, With tears in my eyes I took small white naphthalene balls, With a sigh responded to the approaching spring's calls, This year when autumn gave to my eyes few drops of tears, Silently I opened the locks of a large box of the winter wears, The tears disappeared and I got back the missing photograph, All the same but a little pale was your pink autograph!