Gone are the seas of daffodils.
Gone the sunny green, the plains.
Gone are the green gored hilly hills
And gone the blue sea's blurry stains.

Gone everything, the curtain drawn,
The dream of yesterday's fond fears
Abruptly brought to what's beyond
The final "triumph" of our years.

All is dark where once was hue
And wet with slime, the years' long trace,
The stones they bare mute witness to
The death of this burned rock in space

And though they did not see the fall
And though they can not voice our pain
They will never disregard at all
The sad, still wetness of the rain.

The condo's not the same now that she's gone.
The dolls and toys they, strewn across the floor,
Seem lifeless now. Their absent voices sound
On the walls that are quieter than before

But toys are quiet anyway. The dust
Of doors that slam won't echo in this pall
Nor the pitter patter of her little feet
Nor the cries of "Daddy! Daddy!" in the hall

That rang like joy of birds that have not yet
Grown wings enough to take into the skies.
The kitten that has grown does not forget
Her fairy voice nor the swift time that flies.

Every time I see her she grows tall.
While the world at large is spinning like a ball.