In small places, everyone knows
Each other, whether good or bad —
A rumor, a story — it grows
Like wild-fire, as if it had
This weary traveler wanted more,
More than picturesque sun-kissed trees.
Knocks out his pipe, opens the door,
Politely greeted, but ill at ease.
Arms around you, always hold you
Know I love you, safe and sound.
Always with you, in my dreams you
Touch my heart you, sought and found.
The wonder captured in your eyes,
Like young girls given posies fair;
You cannot hide or chance disguise
Your loving heart, of love so rare.
If ever there was one I wish to hold;
To idly walk together, hand in hand —
The one I yearn; she wears those tresses gold
That zephyrs coy had tossed and gaily fanned.