The Endless Spring
A single tree, etched with words of love in it's side,
A darkened plume of clouds are still in the fresh air,
Wisps of cottony white, floating in a silent, almost
A blissful unawareness of all worry and despair.
The three of them, so young and happy, laughing,
Trying to smack each other with backpacks, innocent,
Her, so strong and tough, and her friend so free spirited,
And he, effeminate, and not quite sure how to express it yet.
The side walks adjacent of the old school house are lined
With pine cones, evergreen trees, amidst fields of green,
Smoky plumes tower high into the sky, the water of life,
A story of some sorts, of great things in store, a living dream.
A bird calls out, soft rain gently falling on the field of grass,
A rebirth of all nature will take place there, a voice, a sign,
A story of a misfit boy, an endless book, of the greatest
Person to have ever lived in the shortest amount of time.
