Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
I knew you were coming,
For I heard you in the lisping leaves,
And I saw your fingers in the sky.
But so quietly did you come
I hardly knew you were there.
I heard your skirts trailing in the withered grass,
And put out my hand to feel you pass,
But felt only the stir in the dying leaves.
Written by Ida Rowland (1904-?)
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