Grey the day
Grey the house in which I dwell
The road before it – gray
The gray cloud horizon hung
Gray dusting drizzle brings.
And a young girl came:
Rosy hands and cheeks
Skirt of tulips
Slippers of roses
Marigolds in her hair.
She sat upon the table by the window
Wishing for sweet white milk
Eagerly she drank.
The first drop fell through the window
- the milk poured down the wall
And the house became white.
The second drop fell to the road
- the long, bleak road became white.
Drinking to the end, she gazed upwards
- pink-edged, a white cloud
floated above the house.
Now you know
Why I love the rosy girl.