On Silver Street
By Bodb Dearg
In the warm air of that winter night
On Silver Street,
Awash in sweet lamplight,
You came on little snow white feet;
And produced a golden apple
And placed it in my hand
And I held it firm with wondrous awe
As I danced along the strand.
Would you pass me by now, as I hope you would
Were we again by that door
Where once we both were stood.
Where in a different time I held you in my arms;
And took great delight to admire
All of your little charms.
I pray you never amble on,
as I did on the strand;
That golden apple that I took
from your little snow white hand.
Copyright © by the owner.
