Waiting for Christmas and the Lost Trees of Baao Park

This happy love of forgotten years,
shadowed beneath drooping leaves
of the rain trees and fire trees of old
could you not stay and bear the cold

A little time more, in a heart's quickstep
join me on this vigil, in sleepy depth
the stars are beaming and the sun is lost
the bell tolling now for the day's ghost

bursting stars flowing behind clouds
of pale white angels with golden crowns
and the crystal moon brings silvery sheen
on this windy chill of September again.

The tranquil trees huddle in whisper
as we dream of them to again reappear
swaying stronger and stronger till December
but we awake as the cheap lights flicker