A stoic young woman heard this song one Saturday morning. Suddenly there flooded through her heart and soul such nostalgia and sense of loss, that she sat down and cried. Her basket of garden things spilled, her small frame trembling with emotion, she wondered what happened to that girl of seventeen? Was she lost and gone forever? It seemed to be so.

Soon she arose and went to find pen and paper and wrote this poem: Echo of Life Elusive dreams - perfections, Approach reality, Only to subside too soon. Perfect love - the dream of dreams, Its after-image left behind, Itself, now near - now far again. Now crest, Now fall, Though - best And clearest dream of all - Nearest to unfolding, - and dearest. Oh! Could it ever be? Or do I dream in vain, as others do? Is truth a hollow promise, And love an empty shell, That I must let them go? NO! ___by Nellieanna Hay

Click: © 2006 - Created & Copyrighted by Nellieanna H. Hay