My cat eyed girl stands by the bamboo thickets- when a pair of water pots rest on the sugar sand - her ear-rings shine like my soul in the saffron light - finger tips of the summer wind play music of the earth on the bamboo stems - I remember. There were phrases and punctuation marks of love in her body language. My love belongs to an extinct species. It’s not your butterfly love flitting around the carnal honey. Certainly you’ll call it, ‘Old- fashioned’. Love keeps its virginity even after fifty years. It’s unfading charm’s in the reality I loved her, in the belief she loved me, and in the distance that shyness kept between us. First published in Romantic Morsels by Zimbell House Publishing LLC, Michigan.