A time called When

familiar to me, these winds and these clammers

these fairy like nymphs with their small handled hammers

the woods were not lonely; the glow was so bright

through the trees as we ran chasing peacocks. My tights

in my patten black buckle shoes tapped down the grass

the whole world was ours for the tender trespass.

 and there, past the stones standing this way and that

is where I last saw her, her funny pink hat,

that's where she left off this place, quick as light

and I haven't seen her since later that night

 She left all the way gone, leaving nothing at all;

my tights got too tight and my shoes got too small

in a land called before, in a time we called when.

 Now's winter, and I haven't seen her again.