names written in stone
tears shed for disorder
there comes a time
where dreams lay to rest
and by and by
do the trees sing
“oh how wonderful,
how beautiful
is love
from smooth spring
from scorching summer
from agile autumn
from windswept winter”
trees that
turn over a new leaf
do so without fail
just to survive
they don’t hold out
for succulent spring
nor supreme summer
nor authentic autumn
nor wise winter
but yet I’m here
wondering
thinking
hoping
yearning
wishing
for you
like a flower waiting
to bloom in time
but
it has been never
since forever
and never is a long time
possibly longer than forever.
