Classic Poem

Some days after
the celebration of my sixtieth
year, one night I found
a small wine house
near Taegu, where the girl
who came and sat by me
seemed just the age
I had been in grade school.
No more those days to play with
than to eat, but still
the fun we had
tickling the girls!
Lost again in longing
I heard that girl say “Well,
is there anything else you want?”
and suddenly we were tickling under the arms,
soles of our feet, laughing
as I haven't laughed for years.
I left her a new
ten-dollar bill, one
I'd received on my birthday,
and hoped we might
“Meet again soon?”
I found my way back
only a few days later,
but the girl by then
was gone,
bundled up and started
again on some wandering trail.
The old poet can't repeat
with another
what happened.
That visit was my last;
no way
back to the repetition.