The Third Story of Love

One day I met a lady
Looking out of the window
And she smiled at me
From the third-story sill.
And we conversed privately—
I brought up my desire for her;
My love had quickly grown tall.
She fell in love, too, but wouldn’t jump—
If she went down on me, it would kill us both.
I couldn’t climb up and into her place myself—
I was too weak to lift myself up a few inches,
And the door was locked shut.
I’ll come back better equipped tomorrow, I told her.
I came the next day.
The window was closed, she was not there,
And the church bells rang.