The paths ascend on slate and flint
attend our waltz - crags' dancing hall
Oh precious leaf of auburn Fall
and mountain pray, on stones' imprint.
Above you fled, my wraith's shadow,
on ghostly passage to implore
and skyward route to bright fields yore,
- stern pain of a thrust sharp arrow.
And there the winds care to bestow,
unspoken whispers - heard in dusk,
adrift and gone the shadows ask
our thoughts rejoice in the meadow.
Your distant train again whistles,
two stars are we - remote constrain,
how saddened is our immersed pain,
amidst Spring's grown Indian thistles.
© 07-17-2012, G. V., All Rights Reserved