'Whenever I plunge my arm, like this,
In a basin of water, I never miss
The sweet sharp sense of a fugitive day
Fetched back from its thickening shroud of gray.
...
Read full text
This a memory to keep, When times are growing old Your memory will not be the same as this But of it's ilk will hold For you a blessed memory To read when you are old. Daphne
I loved the glee she had and yet so sad in the same motion.