Stealing a line from Proust to introduce an old poem of my own from a springtime long ago.
The Ensnaring Glances of Men
Their faces line the fence posts with
Their brown beards waving in the wind and
Laughing eyes that call me from the road
(And singing, singing...)
The heads that laughed on London Bridge and
Grinned on pikes from ear to ear
Could not have touched me more.
(Oh, good Christ, they sing! Their voices!) Read more about Remembrance of Things Past