I take my cup of coffee,
and sit beside the window,
and look out to the silver dance,
the tears
of raindrops,
upon the window pane,
‘for ‘tis true summer lies
hidden,
between the fall
of Autumn
and the springtime leaf
of trees,
and between the deepening
the shadows,
of clouds
and this early morning grey,
but before my time
is over
I can sit here awhile
and wonder,
and look through the window
of the world,
and dream
of you dear summer
to live once again
another springtime day.
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p1964km@googlemail.com
