They stand, patient,
The world so young in their eyes,
To them years pass as days,
Seasons no more than a breath.

At their feet shelter found,
From their arms, spring's children fly,
Om their fingers youthful green to rust,
Such beauty, even in death.

The blaze of vibrant flowers,
Burns for but a moment,
Snowdrops into tulips in less than,
A solitary blink.

Autumn breezes over in hours,
Snow, chill and ice melt just as quick,
Life blooms before they can,
Feel the sun on their skin.

They may see centuries but cannot
Stop to look.