In the approaching twilight
My bedroom is a golden citadel
I hear the children playing like a
Song of many birds varied, ,mottle
Repeated cries and answers tireless
Before the coming of darkness.  It is
A forever sound of busy happiness
Signifying nothing but eternal  time
That the children know will never end.
Soon the darkness will call them home.
But why do I stay in my golden room
Listening.  Why do I not go out and join
Them in their joy-because here I can hear
Their poetry; hear their joy; Be their poet
In the eternal present still I hear their cries
In the village of long ago I remember you

For my Sister Sue Remember me.