of wind carrying sparkling dust
is akin to some savage lust
and the sun eclipses-
because it must.
Sometimes the sudden sigh
of the protracted long goodbye
might even be a little lie
and the leaves go flying-
because they die.
Sometimes the trees flower again
flower in beautiful scarlet pain
and blood is the colour of the evening rain
and the bees go berserk-
Sometimes impossible is loving and a kiss
may be the cruellest possible bliss
and then you think, what did i miss?
and the world smiles-
it is this.