Winter has come home to Helen
And she has grown old in her own way
See what becomes of hiding away
Helen
Yes, you have grown old since I last came to see you
Your slight body as frail as eggshell
And your cheek against mine holds wrinkles
Helen
What happened to that youth we talked so much of
And the melodic peals of your nightingale laugh
And those long Summer nights we ate together, tirelessly
With light hearts and no regrets...
Your face has become a white serviette
Helen
And the moon not the sun now shines in your eye
And those swift Autumn swallows only southward fly
Our days are shortening
Helen
1968
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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