On I walk, upon the evaporating cloud
of ever-passing Time.
I would how many tufts of life have gone awry
from my love of staring towards the sky?

On I walk, upon the Cotton Lane.
I think and thought on cloudy days gone,
Now that the Eve of blooming May has arrived.
Desperate steps in crunching snow
with one to pray that today is not our day.
Slipped time and again, on sliding slopes
and shivering mounts, the rocks beneath
leaving itching scabs and swollen bruises,
just as nectar seeps down the stem of a budding rose.

The hanging eyes I closed one final time,
and awoke to morn' of life reborn,
a Cardinal singing melodic tunes by my bedside.
But always spring arrives, my mind begins to ring:

What plights fill my mind, come summertime?
What paths to take,
How sweet to make and
when to sugar arm hold?
Do I truly remember the cold of my winter nights,
when i dump more ice into my Sprite?
Do I actually recall the bone-chattering winds
and sweeping gales at Autumns end,
When on the same breezes kites now fly?

Bar music rings into my ears
and the people dance joyously about.
Their bodies move and tap and fly and laugh,
to the band ferociously playing a snake-charmer's tune.
I stand to join and reach my hand for hand to grip
but the daydream ends and I awake to my room
my mind achingly awake before my body
has the time to stretch or to bloom.