short story

They strolled down the lane together.
The sky was studded with stars.
They reached the gate in silence as he lifted down the bars.
She neither smiled nor thanked him,
Because she knew not how.
For he was just a farmer boy
and she a jersey cow.

I've come to find out that though this was stuck in my memory somehow, it isn't an original. It was from a childcraft book of the 50's and 60's. I googled it and there it was. I guess all the times my mother told it to me or maybe I read it, it suck with me. I realize Writing.com is about being original, but 'we are now what we have been becoming.'