If I could climb into the past,
I’d lift you up above all harm,
Where restive flows the autumn creek,
A treehouse there, where we could share
Our stories —

I’d ease the aching in your limbs,
And kiss your all-too-often tears,
And though not having much to give,
At least I would not add to all
Your worries —

I’d hold you, soft as friendly grass,
You’d trace the lines along my face,
And we would love with all the life
Betokened us by grace —

If I could climb into the past,
I’d turn into a stretch of land,
Where you could lay your aching head,
Your tousled hair be touched
By autumn breezes —

Instead of being ash and smoke
That comes as from a distant fire:
A voice that would console,
But only

Teases