Somewhere
\nthere are birches,
\nand they are covered with snow
\nand pale light,
\nand there are footprints
\non a road between them,
\nand it is a foggy dream,
\nperhaps in morning,
\nbetween one of those pauses
\nwhere day passes into another room,
\nbut the road leads somewhere,
\nto the heart,
\nto joy,
\nto sorrow,
\nbuildings where I walk
\nand know islands of art,
\nand bottles of music,
\nand my life is new,
\nand there is a sun that refuses to set,
\na moon that hovers like a pearl,
\nand all ages seem one,
\nand all love
\nbelongs to a woman of a thousand faces.<\/p>\n
So where do I go
\nin this life without birches?
\nA road to great buildings?
\nA fog that hangs like a diaphanous cloak,
\nand a language
\nmore music than words,
\nin a place where I go
\nto see you,
\nand hold you,
\nand share flowers in summer?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Somewhere there are birches, and they are covered with snow and pale light, and there are footprints on a road between them, and it is…<\/p>\n