Fall in Sweden!

(Old poem;written on Lanzarote~2002)

The fall is coming to Sweden. The leaves wear colors bright,
but here I sit in shorts and sweat till late into the night.

I wish I were in Sweden. I'd love to feel the air,
crisp coolness in the morning and see the frost so fair.

I long to be in Sweden enjoying the season's start.
The differences are vast, I know, but there is all my heart....

I know what you mean, both in terms of wanting to be in one's birth home and to be where there is scenic beauty. But I'm sure that your imaginative mind can create, inside it, the comfort of home and the sights and sensations of nature.

You write such lovely poetry.

hey hey

I would like to be in Sweden with you to see the leaves and feel the sense of season of which you speak. Of course, I would have to wear long pants, I suppose. Would you help to keep me warm?

Thank you for creating and sharing this poem, dear wife. I have my passport, in there in my cabinet of wonders right next to my prescriptions (which reminds me, now that I am awake, that I must take them); perhaps my passport is the best prescription for me...

I love you.