No fine lady has given me the Green Light since then
To call her on her Coral colored phone again
I wallow in Sour Grapes each February
In the snow I ruefully moan again.
Life is now one huge Arboretum
With trees turned to stone again.
One ominous alb~colored Blizzard
Where all is dark and alone again.
A cadaverous Aura lies still
All mankind is windblown again.
Now I dream of a Primrose Path
Where my mind will have flown again.