Good bye, old friend.
I remember how you taught me
at midnight, in sparkled
lightning-bug mist that swathed
green Pennsylvania clover,
to ride cows. Silently
we rode them until dawn.
They were never quite awake,
but we were. That was years ago.
Drowsy and patient, the cows
are gone, the meadow is gone,
you and the days are gone -
but not this friendship.
English landscape by John Constable
No comments:
Post a Comment