My guidepost in the Rondacks fair
Lead me home again
Along the gray and winding path
Through dale and hill and glen
A loving friend lay at your knee
Mirroring your form
Chaste Butternut, her surface calm,
Beneath the brewing storm
You gaze at her, with chiseled look
Stern, your countenance
But soften as you see in her
Your rigid governance
She is your one and only love
Biding all the while
Beneath the falling autumn leaves
She’ll win your every trial
The two shall never cease to be
Companions e’ermore
For who can quell what’s in your souls
which none hath heretofore?
2 comments:
Absolutely love it!
Why, thank you!
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