You smile
but don’t quite believe me
when I promise
that come next spring
when the snow has gone and roads are safe
we’ll drive deep into the country side,
see the greening of the landscape
and see wild flowers which blooms in the forest
for no one but the animals to admire
and we will see trout wake in the glens lake
an eye that only cries when it remembers
that it used to be the blue sky.
Your hands so thin and face so white,
but your eyes are green
and smilingly dreamy.
I have painted you a landscape and it will come true.