I was young and carefree.
The turning of the hand
A song in verse I whispered and thought
What nonsense there is still the apple blossom there is still the windfall light
shadows. shadows. I was wrong. Time has taken me as well. My friend. My friend. I will not say you didn’t warn me
And my summer was late after a winter birth
And my summer was and was never
What sorrow to be human. What grave sorrow to be alive.
But there is only this. This is all there is. Have a second. Find an hour. Be the morning dew with that first breath
When all was wrong and you saw none of it
See none again.