Once, I dreamt this scene; that seemed to show
Not just a house, but in fact a home
Welcome benches and the golden glow,
Breeze around said, ‘Rest a while, do not further roam’
Was it from those days, long bygone?
Believe me – never again, a setting so quaint,
Never again, though fervently sought, have I seen,
A tender spark, beneath the modern paint
So pleasant a scenery!
Yet, I am sure, there was a face
Face laden with tragedy
Not real, yet so, in the reflected rays
Was it worried? Was it foreseeing something bloody?
Yes, there, I am sure, there was an Unknown,
Wheel of hard and cold steel, for a heart
Grinning and waiting to hear the groan
Could I have stopped the blow
Could I have saved the tree,
Could I have preserved the golden glow?
Perhaps, breeze would have remained free.