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(Stan's Word WS) (Alteration of Frost's Good Hours)
I had not for this winter evening walk
my just passed friend with whom to talk.
Along I had the trees in a row
whispering playful sounds had come slow.
Then I summoned the memories within,
They played the sound of a violin.
The glimpse of the past interlaced.
and youthful forms were easily traced.
I had the pleasing laughter bound.
It evoked in me a sound so loud.
and though alone I headed home back
I wouldn't let his star dim-go black.