My hair’s wispy tendrils dance across my face,
in perfect harmony with the summer breeze.
This breath of sweet nectar draws me back to my former self,
in soft slumber beneath the maple trees.

The shadows beyond my eyelids are waltzing
in a joyous frenzy that need not cease.
The dreams of an innocent mind begin to sing
the song of a quiet stream’s gentle peace.

That shadow of my untainted identity,
her soft skin embracing the cool grass,
not a worry to shatter her serenity,
draws a heavy tear, gleaming like glass.

Nothing has changed as I drop to my knees,
with the familiar shadows sweeping by.
The soft wind scatters my wistful pleas,
for Nothing is the same, I cannot lie.

The earth drinks the sorrows that roll from my face,
and warmly cradles my weakened form as I cry,
back again in this long-forgotten place,
while the wizened trees whisper a hazy lullaby.