Of longer days awakening;
Of lifted skies and dawning spring.
From longing unto fruition;
Of reliance and faltering intuition
From those days past to some days hence;
Of plans, and dreams, and happenstance
From whence a new thing has begun;
From there a silver thread was spun
To what end this all may come;
Of this all, what has become?
Of flights and fancy, of peaches, of cream;
Of regrets, of fears, and unlived dreams
The lilting coo of a swaddled babe;
The easy smile of a practiced knave
The Past returns and so it goes;
The wisest of us never knows.