I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,and last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; but last year's bitter loving must remain
heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. There are a hundred places where I fear to go
- so with his memory they brim.
and entering with relief some quiet place where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, still remembering him.
Edna St Vincent Millay (1892 -1950)
I love that picture. He looks like he is about to say something funny! Blessings
ReplyDeleteA beautiful photo, just wonderful.
ReplyDelete