And so it happened that on a warm windy evening
I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all.
Their house was even more elaborate than I expected
A cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion
Overlooking the bay.
The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile
Jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens
Finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines
A though from the momentum of its run.
The front was broken by a line of French windows
glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon
And Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
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ReplyDeleteWhy Brenda?? I wanted to read the comment... Meanie. :/
DeleteI think if you were to arrange it into stanzas it would sound and feel more like a poem. But per all i liked it and the picture even though it is a little kids poem ha
ReplyDelete