If I Could Sketch Our Memories...

What a perfect picture it would make? The mellow, bright, sweet old wall. I never pass by it feeling better for the sight. A lichen growing here and the moss growing there, a shy young wine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on under those busy street lights. The sober old ivy clustering a little further down! There are fifty shades of tint and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. If only I could draw, and knew how to paint, What a lovely sketch I would make of that.