They gather, to hear musicians play
A few small groups litter the grass
They are like the music
Or the summer sun
They are fleeting
They exist, but for a time
They may even live
But they too shall pass
Into nothing
Should I envy them?
Their joy, however fleeting
Perhaps not
And yet, I do
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:18 AM UTC
They gather, to hear musicians play
A few small groups litter the grass
They are like the music
Or the summer sun
They are fleeting
They exist, but for a time
They may even live
But they too shall pass
Into nothing
Should I envy them?
Their joy, however fleeting
Perhaps not
And yet, I do