Hiraeth and Heart

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When I am Old

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Before Me

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  Many a poets have described  This memory of a reflected crimson escaping eyes  And bouncing off a breezy silk I couldn't tell more The difference of a sunset and those eyes But why should I They have far too much of it. If you would listen,  I know of this lush cave  With forgotten English ivy  Suspended like a fragile twine  But mistrust me less I have never dwelled more. And you see this turquoise water  A stranger once wrote 'Turquiose is a sadder blue' But, Did he ever see this? Woe to woo. But I might be unjust  To this fairness I graced  My eyes might have betrayed  Hitherto this beauty You could see more. 》Before Me
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