What words I chose,
you to view,
Hanlan’s in the fall?
The leaves akimbo,
branches black,
amid the wild goose call.
The azure sky, golden trees and fog all rolled together.
Where we sat with wanted hope:
Our love would last forever.
Soon we left, and winter came;
to Hanlan’s as it must.
Snow-death came and left no trace of sweetness or of rust.
Now I see that with these words
I now can bring;
not so much sad Hanlan’s point,
but really,
reticent spring.
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Hi, Glory: You said, "nice to meet you." Who is the person this is directed to?
Alicia
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