Dreaming, Dreams Of Her Poem by James McLain

Do you think, he is where, in that warm speaking place, bare of face, lost in the bush there behind?
Clear are those golden streams.
And green trimmed hedges are often by passed never seen.
when good byes and hellos come here to me, your love it is seen.

There where my girl,
has the lily and rose in her hair on those dimpled cheeks.
And footprints left behind in the grass that I singing hear,
midsummers night it is green.

Do you think of me now and when again if.
Your impishly this devilish boy, now a man.
Every now and then, moving off in the wind.