Dear Jeremy, I wonder if still you
Remember the days under maple leaves?
That we wished for a sky clear blue,
And to our collection some metal lids.
You would fly me on a swing, oh dear,
crown me with a diadem of daffoldils.
I had planned for a lunch, but the
Next day, you'd gone over home hills.
I was hence hooked on radio news,
Gave no heed to the golden leaves.
But they told me nothing, none I need'd,
Until the letter I received.
To grey waters, sands and gulls,
Now I write this to Normandy.
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假的sonnet.... :)
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