If I were to walk here with you
we'd talk, and you
would steal away the silence.
With words you would disguise
the haunted seagull's cries.
I would miss the mist, its rise
from where it lay,
still, dreaming on the lake.
I wouldn't pause to marvel,
where last night
the ice queen danced,
her cloak of sparkling white
discarded on the grass;
nor crave to keep the crystal leaves,
melting diamonds dripped,
from her fingers
where she passed.
I wouldn't wonder where
those stairways lead
that slant in sunbeams
through winter trees;
or listen to the river's flow,
or stand still long enough
to watch and wait and know,
that even though
I'm sad you're gone;
it was always so:
that I did walk alone.
