Sunday, December 12, 2010

After sailing on the Lake of the Pines

clouds were stacked
in mottled heaps
upon the western shore

we sliced the waves
while heeling low
our troubles were no more

pink and purple
clouds were ours
and so was time that day

warm sun and laughs
came falling down
and naught was in our way

the blue green hills
were miles away
and we slipped the mortal coil

we laughed and loved
the day away
forgetting earthly toil

blue-on-blue
as skies above
bore clouds so soft and free

time was fine
and it was ours
for only you and me . . . .

August 1979

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