Poetry
by John Delonas

Summer is gone from the hills,
And winter is near,
The shadows of the night fills
The memory of happy evenings here.
Now that I am alone,
Words of love come that never came,
Sweet meanings never said;
If only all were the same,
Oh! for that happy life once led.
Often I wake at dawn,
And stare through frosted windowpane,
Cros’t the snow-crusted lawn
To your darkened window by the lane,
Then slowly, sadly turn away
To wonder
And sigh,
Over loves torn asunder,
I wonder why.
(Why?)