Down the corridor of time
Into the spacious halls of rhyme
Where waits the morning’s golden glow
And sunlight pauses here as though
The binding spell, now mystery,
Will soon recapture history.
A landscape on the farther wall–
The treasure of this aging hall–
Invites my dreams to visit hence,
To leap across the golden fence
And run headlong through grassy fields
To taste the fruit its orchard yields.
The stifled air within this room
Cannot contain the daisy’s bloom,
Nor can hollow paneled walls
Give freedom to the eagle’s calls;
But I am there and sight is blind
As I meander with the mind.
