When I followed you into the night there was so much to learn, too much to lose. I empty sand out of my shoes, water lap-dances the shore. I find garden gnomes on the lake floor, bring sun block and an umbrella to the beach. The radio says there is a chance of sun & cloud, and I wake to the sound of birds in trees. I never tire of the "I love yous" or the creaking cottage door. Someone up here is stealing garden gnomes, and people are asked to call the O.P.P. The stars are so bright, here and far away and I would never ask you to choose. I want to know one thing, and know it well, but the lake has taken the smell of your hair from me. by David Clink from: His name was Gord, and he used to run with the bulls, ©2001  Published by Junction Books