The Playhouse Key
3/3/08This is the key to the playhouse,
In the woods by the pebbly shore,
It’s winter now; I wonder if
There’s snow about the door ?
I wonder if the fir trees tap
Green fingers on the pane,
If seagulls cry and the roof is wet
And tinkle-y with rain ?
I wonder if the flower- springged cups
And plates sit on their shelf,
And […]