  I SAT with dreams and mated them with shadows Where sunlight flecked the grass and trickled thru Each swaying twig and branch of spruce and elder Adoringly, they somehow spoke of you. I sat tense-eyed, my longing vision sensing, An unseen, art-wise hand begin to trace. With all love’s magic trickery displaying To me; your hair, your pallid waiting face. In all these voiceless years of night and grieving Above thy grave I grasp this gleam of grace. Perhaps sometime, where is no pain or parting I’ll smile again into your waiting face. |
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