On a river embankment, a scene... and he...

'This morn...
Cloudy
And calm
And pious joy filled...
This river flowing like a page from history,
And someone posting in the breeze a story
Of a mirthful holiday dance...
Wish I had carried my canvas paper wet
And that stand to hold the board straight
Against the blowing wind...
Wish I had carried that bag of colors and pastel,
And wish the brown Frederick
Me blessed,
And made me see
The Chelsea
Of an embankment
Of eighteen eighty three...'

he wished so,
Standing
At the embankment of a river
Far away from Chelsea
Yet by wind envisioned perfect
For one to details see...

The scene of children dancing...
Hopping...
Playing...
Their cries filling the air...
Jocund...
Women holding hands together
As friends do
And a tree a little distance away bearing
Witness to the happiness of
Friendliness...
And a music unheard,
Heard...
A rhythm unsavoured,
Tasted on nerves...
A sense so vivid
Oily -
Colored
Flamboyant...
A scene which one could
Only heaven of pure bliss send...

he just wished so,
So he did wish,
For wishes and dreams hold no bar
For poems and drizzles can be felt from far...

So he did wish...
he just so wished...

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