Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               You Were Dancing Up the Lane

In an old lawn chair I sat and dozed
And felt amber dusk sealing the day
Though I was weary and my eyes were half-closed
I heard you – you, whistling a romantic lay

You were skipping barefoot up the lane
Your skirt all a-dance for your heart’s desire
O Lady-Queen of our happy demesne
With flowers for me, your most devoted squire

I awoke, I blinked – I was all alone -
The sun had set on us, many years gone

But I saw you dancing up the lane…