It was Wordsworth’s clear line I wanted,
nothing to do with mountains, only the quiet
sunshine and silence, but I hated being alone.
The lonely cannot love solitude.
I wanted a garden outside tall windows,
winter sun in leafless branches, a cold spring
with crocus in the grass, and the first blossom,
and you at work in the same apartment,
my dearest friend.
— Elaine Feinstein “Companionship”
