By leaning near to touch my hand

All the brief dream lies broken,

Leaving a thin ghost of boyhood,

And a word that was not spoken.

I had slipped free from time and gene

Back with a child to playing.

Busy with floor-games, he looked up -

I thought I heard him saying,

"Do you remember - " and the hands

Moved among toys I loved dearly.

Do you remember - " he had said -

I heard the small sound clearly.

I listened, but the faint voice died,

The fair hair gleamed less brightly.

T thought the child came near to me

Till your hand touched me lightly.