I stand beside nude trees,
under a bare sky.
It’s cobalt-coloured – like stripped-bare dreams;
it’s leaden, and naked of life.
The Pavilion is risen tall;
its grandeur all too clear.
If you’d like to take a winter stroll,
why don’t you meet me here?
My skin is chilled
and my dreams hang low –
like a frosty, morning fog.
And I pine for you,
in grumbled tones –
after my keeper,
like a dog.
If you should see me upon the pavement
with desolate-looking eyes,
know there’s a sparkle present
and, because of you, my tears have dried.
And I feel I’m not kidding myself
with the undulations of my mind.
No matter what my temperament,
I know you’ll soothe me in tones kind.
The sky is cobalt-blue
and the leaves are in dank piles.
But I’ll walk these paths with you –
and I’ll walk them for miles.