When the wind
Sings a lonely song,
There is tear-mist
In the air.
The cold autumn
Is exhausting,
The fallen leaves sigh
In the windswept park.
I drink wine
Before going to sleep;
But even in dreams,
I have forgotten how to smile.
When I enter the grave,
Will anyone recall
Walking with me
In a garden of flowers?
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/garden-of-flowers/
