Tuesday, March 1, 2011

First Day of This:

March 1st

A book, a chair, and the sun.
A simple pleasure after all winter's done
Time doesn't cease, and life goes on
But nothing really bothers me
When spring hath sprung.

1 comment:

  1. Now Summer wanes;
    The Chill doth creep
    Upon Dionysus,
    In His dancers' sleep.

    Time may not cease;
    Life begins anew.
    Though 'twas of
    Past Joy's Corpse that
    Our Trees Grew.