She
She knew of all the finer things,
Like candlelight, and snow—
And she knew of love, the people say,
Albeit long ago.
She was rather fond of moonlight,
But of long-stemmed roses, too—
She was likewise fond of autumn,
And its turn of shade, and hue.
She was predisposed to wonder
At the butterfly, and bee—
Till interposed the winter wind,
And then eternity.
And since, she is remembered,
When the autumn breezes blow—
For she knew of love, the people say...
Albeit long ago.
Copyright © Kenneth R. Merrill | Year Posted 2019
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