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Thursday, April 12, 2012

I Don't Know . . .

I don't know how
the sun slips silently
behind the trees
or how the leaves unfurl so quietly
that I miss their arrival.

I don't know how
the Dogwood blooms white
and the Bluets suddenly appear
in a tender burst of burgeoning hope.

I don't know how
the years pass so swiftly -
one moment a child
and too soon a man.

The years float swiftly past
like clouds on a summer afternoon -
how I long to tie them down
like buoyant balloons.