By Profe Steve
Scent of honeysuckle Swirling like mist on the hot breeze. Sunflowers nod their heads As if privy to all the world's secrets. But the wind bears no answers To the deep questions of life.
Why is our time so brief And so filled with pain? Why do creative souls Bear such heavy burdens of woe?
The morning sun rises Full of new hope and joy, Bearing in her arms promises That will not be fulfilled. They are mirages in my eyes Smoke that will flee on the breeze.
Thus the robins in the spring Are filled with silent desperation To seize life while it may last. To savor each new dawning. To live a lesson for humanity To seek the simple pleasures.
To sing with the joy of life And create some small beauty As expression of the undying cycle: Such is the meaning of existence.