Lonely for Paris in spring br All is so faraway to reach, br A heart for joy could sing br What memories should teach; br Eyes are wide in clearing blue br All is such a joy to glide, br It's always up to me and you br What gets soft or amplified. br br Be here and become strong br All has its wandering ways, br Have an opportunity get along br Make the best of all the days; br Ripe your feelings and touch br Nothing else is more of hope, br We have everything inasmuch br As we work things out and cope. br br The days begin in nothingness br With the cold pleasure at first, br Then there might be a new fresh br A moment of thought we thirst; br A day is asleep for awhile br And then there's some awaken, br Hard in a lost hour to defile br When a mind's occupied or taken.br br Peter S.