A Visit To The Old Haunt
This is destiny.
These are the lane, the pond, and the bright walls surround.
I shouldn't have come along with the wind, again into thy portal.
Two as we are, each steps we have.
In the winter, I dread thee, with my shivery body and slightly closed eyes.
Not reminiscing those days of flowing bowls and songs.
Emptying the goblet, I am drunk and frozen for eons.
The farewell forsaken, I look upward along the echo beneath the fretted shines.
There are the flaring patio, tidy veranda and shady corners.
But where are ...