That I May yet across a summer glade brooding
Imagine love true love through my boyish vision
And yet may I remember it hence
At a time this time of writing
With the clarity that would as it was passing now.
That I May yet paint a picture truly
Not guided by a dream not dreamed but stolen
That I may figure such words as love
From a canvas freshly met and at points still dripping.
That I May yet open up to my losses
Counting them fairly not feigning to carefree
That I may recognize each moment’s worth
Or accept that at times I could have done and more bravely.
© The Hairy Teacher, October 31st, 2019.