Time skips by me,
laughing playfully
imitating the youth of a child.

The child runs to a distant voice,
it’s iridescent like nature
slowly fading away.
Left with a lament for it to come back again,
To skip around the fields of tulips
as they continue to blossom.
The child stops to reassure me:
‘The tulips will not blossom if I stay’.

The child speaks true,
as the tulips grow, so do you.