KISSES AT THE TURNSTILE GATE
I'll ride this way again, irresistibly drawn
To travel once more the lonely road from the sea
That you and I explored, glad just to be.
And I'll get off my horse to watch the dawn;
I'll sit on the log beneath a maple tree
And laugh at memories of you and me
Who sat there once and gave our hearts in pawn.
I'll listen to crickets, and hear the noisy trills
Of jays. I'll trace the changing carpet, inlaid
With leaves in rich mosaic, light and shade.
I'll watch the lizards hunt where the sunlight spills.
I'll watch the twisting, silver brook invade
The trees that rise beyond the farther glade,
And farther yet the distant blue of the hills.
I'll see all this again, and mock the past
Because my pride is stronger now than hate:
But when I pass the broken turnstile gate
I'll look the other way and ride by fast
For I might see a phantom lover wait.
My pride is strong—but I shan't hesitate
Lest I recall your kisses, which could not last.
Clare Horner [Harner],
Kansas.
Charleston, SC Evening Post - June 11, 1937 Found on Genealogy Bank |
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