Room after room

Is filled with treasures—

Old masters, jewels, glass.

Yet all I remember

Is the stark whiteness of a gardenia

Blowing against a wall,

And the fairy music of a fountain

In the patio.

[Pg 27]

[Pg 27]

 Surety

I needed the dawn, but

My eyes beheld only clouds

And a valley filled with mists

And a mountain shutting out the east.

I needed the dawn, so

I could but wait.

Surely,

Slowly

Through the clouds

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