Can it be that spring has passed ?
Just a memory in the history book of my thoughts ?
The bud of my youth just a shell
of what I used to be.
Is it true that the warmth of summer
when the days and I matured
are over with, vaporized like this morning's dew ?
With the first frost and ensuing Indian Summer
we set the forest on fire
our usefulness over, we put on our glory
one last show for whomever.
Can it be that now it's winter...
so cold upon the ground ?
Who cares what we were ?
if you can dream; you can fly...if you are flying; you are dreaming.
[This message has been edited by RobertB (edited 11-29-1999).]