Playing through the pale brown trunks of the tall larch trees
As they strove to push their spiky canopies ever closer
To the clear blue of the late summer sky
And I felt the urge to take your hand
And share with you the magic of the moving light
I watched the pattern of the swifts
Moving in that same blue sky
Darting to and fro
As a myriad tiny flies led them in a merry dance
And my heart knew how your shining eyes
Would have danced to follow their dance
And my heart ached for times missed
And joys not shared
And my empty hand hung heavy at the end of my arm
The weight of a pendulum swinging forward, back, forward, back
In perfect time with lonely steps
Its rhythmic swing marking out
The slow passage of time until it could
Once again find its nobler purpose
To enfold your tiny hand
And raise itself to point with joy
At the countless treasures of a woodland walk
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