SOUVENIRS | Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge Washingtonville NY

Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge

Evening Light		Page 1 - Page 2 - Page 3 - Page 4

There is something in the evening light
when the days grow long and the sun grows warm
and the breezes blow cool against the face,
there is something in the sound of the rustle of leaves
and the gentle stillness that fills the World
with a hush of heart and a calm of soul
that sends my heart back
many, so many years.

And I am in the park again
alone and waiting
on the off-chance you'll walk by
or maybe
if I'm fortunate this evening
stop to talk
or just sit a while
with me.

I've been about this Earth
to places so far, so very, very far from there,
and always
always
there is something in the evening light
when the days grow long and the sun grows warm
and the breezes blow cool against the face,
that brings me back
to the park again
where I walked alone waiting
and hoping
and watching.

And I sit beside you
late at night
half asleep
but happy, truly happy
to be by your side.
And again I half hear your voice as I drift:
“I think we should take the opportunity when we have it.
What do you think?”
you said.

Wanting nothing more than to agree with you
I sleepily replied
“I agree. Oh yes, I agree.”

You turned to your side to face me,
leaned forward a bit toward,
raised your hands,
took hold of my face
drew closer still
brought your face to mine
and ...
kissed me ever so carefully...
ever so care-full-ly.

I am weak, remembering now,
as weak now as at that moment.
I heard my heart weep out loud,
it had no where to hold all that elation.
It wept
as my soul leaped from my body
to dance on the air, in the dark, under the moon
with the stars.
And I cried...
and I cry.

There is something in the evening light
when the days grow long and the sun grows warm
and the breezes blow cool against the face,
there is something in the sound of the rustle of leaves
and the gentle stillness that fills the World
with a hush of heart and a calm of soul
that brings my heart back
and I want to cry like that
again.

Forty-three years have passed.
I am no longer spritely, young and so.
Forty-three years of time and age
and ageing
and older
and older still.

But forty-three years and still
there is something in the evening light
when the days grow long and the sun grows warm
and the breezes blow cool against the face,
there is something in the sound of the rustle of leave
and the gentle stillness that fill the World
with a hush of heart and a calm of soul
that reminds me that I have truly Loved
and once upon a time
forty-three years ago
I was Loved.

And forty-three years today...
Dear Denis
it's all very much
the same
as
forty-three years ago.

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