Autumn's chill hangs in the air.
Lately my thoughts turn to her;
they warm these October nights
as her birthday nears.
Do I dream I see her whole again
filled with laughter and chatter?
She IS a vision... young and pretty
her mind sharp and witty.
Who can know the truth of it
whether vision or visitor?
I know this, I am comforted
and find myself believing again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem