Old Love Rust Not

I walked across the bridge that spanned over a white running river; and she was there on the other side waiting for me. One day she wasn´t there, she had gone to Denmark to work as a nurse, but she had not told me and had not left a letter telling me why she had gone away. I remember asking her, or was I begging? Do you love me? Yes, I love you forever, she had said, and kissed me tenderly. And now that I´m old I see that she said this to soothe my fear of not being loved. Another spring and forty years has gone the river is the same, so is my love for her.