Dear Jeremy, I wonder if still you Remember the days under maple leaves? That we wished for a sky clear blue, And to our collection some metal lids. You would fly me on a swing, oh dear, crown me with a diadem of daffoldils. I had planned for a lunch, but the Next day, you'd gone over home hills. I was hence hooked on radio news, Gave no heed to the golden leaves. But they told me nothing, none I need'd, Until the letter I received. To grey waters, sands and gulls, Now I write this to Normandy. -- 假的sonnet.... :) --

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