…
After the sun has set,
but before the late chill
has sidled in, while the night
is still young — the lights
multiplying on the river’s glass —
the friends sprawl, laughing,
and content on the damp grass.
…
At times like this, an observer
might pine for youth, a half-forgotten
language from a country of sunlight
and scented flowers that one has been
chased from, the excited glitter of
its cities half-remembered,
but which one only half-wants
to revisit, and kneel, and kiss
the soft, yielding earth.
…
…
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