These spring flowers will not
Delay their blooming on our
Account;
Just because We are busy.
They wait for no human.
Nor the trees, come fall
To
Drop their leaves.
We are merely
Passerby’s,
Yet
All joining one another as our
Physical shells return to the earth
In the end.
We are the experience.
She smiles
But there is an edge in her eyes
And you wonder why
As you pass her by.
She laughs out loud
But there’s a sadness in the sound
And you wonder why
As you pass her by.
Her life has never been
Quite as it seems
To the naked eye
Of a passerby.
There are mysteries
In her heart
And sorrows in her soul
That’s she’s never shared,
That nobody knows.
Chole Into Diamonds 