A poem
The deep and solemn purple
of a summer night,
of yesterdays
when you dared to dream.
The rosy twilight of boyhood,
filled with memories
plucked from wood and field.
Strange laughings,
and glittered streamlets
recall the promise
of an Indian summer
tinged with blue mistiness,
untouched yet
by the ruthless spirit of decay,
and softened by the touch
of untiring
and anxious love.
Unspoiled by praise or blame,
the days pass
in stately procession,
and I am older
than I used to be,
though younger
than I’ll ever be again.