Olga was the breeze of late September, <br /> she was the trickle of the water through the trees, <br /> she was the passion of a Sunday, <br /> and the smiles found on Monday, <br /> ... she was the ship of billowed sails on my sea. <br /> <br /> Olga was the lightning in the twilight, <br /> and the rockets on my pillows late at night, <br /> she was the music in the spring, <br /> she was the life in almost everything, <br /> she was the yesterday, that is never quite in sight. <br /> <br /> Olga was the essence of my dreams, <br /> she was the sunshine that came bursting through the shade, <br /> she was that sweet refreshing blast, <br /> and the love of seasons past, <br /> ... Who may never know the hole that she has made.<br /><br />Barry Van Allen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/olga/
