My world was in a never-ending spring,
Surrounded by sweet flowers budding anew.
But peace held brief, for I heard clock chimes sing
And dusk crept forth, joys growing ever few.
I’d planted seeds with summer’s hope in mind,
Tenderly entrusted them to the earth
That harvest might bring fruit for me to find,
Plans born in winters spent beside by the hearth.
Where love once sang with rain’s promising lull,
The growth of success in any sown range,
How love waned when the truth was seen in full:
As beauty blooms, so must that shrewd beast,change.
I’ve known no joy like that of spring, but yet,
I know that man must growth or death beget.
