I can still remember the day
I pretended to be Millay
and (lacking a ferry) drove all the way
across the state just to bring you . . .
insert lame excuse
and we spent the whole night
trying to do her poem right -
apples, pears, a little firelight,
and a hilltop view.
What ever happened to you?
A poem within a poem for Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads. The poem I'm referencing is Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Recuerdo."
Update: put under the scalpel to make it 55 words for my G-Man!