The Boy walked a path,
A quiet little road,
and the passengers came and went,
But no one joined the show.
The blue sky never changed,
The clouds would not grow,
The sun could not fade,
The moon will not glow.
It twisted, it turned,
Yet the more forward he bent,
The more the Echos came, and went
"Remember, Remember,"
And the Sky still would not change.
He lost his way,
But the path never went away,
Silly little boy, silly little problems,
Lonely little child, Smiling dutifully.
Where will he go?
Oh, just aways.
What will he see,
A few passengers, blank as the sky.
Reflections of... something, gone by.
What will he hear?
Oh, just the sounds of his fear,
"Remember, Remember,"
pit-pat, pit-pat,
Nary, nary on her December.
The Spring birthed for others,
For him only death grew,
And the bees pollinated,
Each and every one of those bright seeds.
Cute little boy,
Grown so big,
To hold in all the clouds,
Because he's too small.
Too weak,
To look up at that Sky.
Anymore.
Can it be understood?
The storms of another.
He ponders.
He ponders.
And the passengers exit here.