Lindenhofplatz

He waited beneath the plane trees,
by the fountains, shirt freshly pressed,
bouquet in hand and trousers soaking wet.
In his excitement, he simply hadn't noticed.
It was, after all, the first time.
She arrived. Late. Saw him. Saw the trousers.
Stayed anyway.

They have met every Tuesday since,
at Lindenhof Square.
He stands now
a little further to the left.