I've come to reminisce, retracing all your steps beneath the symmetry of pines and palms that colonnade near Angwin Hall. The old rectangle chapel face aligns its sacramental windows with the hills, where sixty-years ago, inside those white washed plaster walls your faith was found. Shade spills like balm against the beveled glass. This fight, to capture every yesteryear you've owned, leaves me undone. The dormitory stairs of walnut, tap an ageless chant— intoned with all your giddy dreams and girlish prayers. The thought of you remains an oblique ray of fleshless gold, that burns my hours away.
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