There you are.

It must be….

It is you,

On the small

Of the horizon,

Emblazoned

Yellow, pink and white

Subtle in the mist

Far off,

Down the path.

Can it be

Too joyous?

I ask—-

The memory

Of you.

In this dream of wild

Bright yellow mustard,

Between

Long rows

Of leafless vines

Up

And

Over

 The moss-green

Hills.

Of gold-orange

Buttercups

Patched through

Silver grass.

Beneath

Pearl white pussy-willows,

Pale catkins

Hanging down.

Star flowers

With lavender phlox

And snow-drops

All around.

And there,

In the gentle water

The sound

Of your musical voice.

It is spring my dear,

And here,

I am without you,

Beyond the flows

Of brook and time.

Forever,

Dear Janet,

You will be my Valentine