The spring flower is saddened at the season’s end.
For none had thought to stop and smell her.
The breath of life, sparsely remembered still causes the hearts of all to beat
Yet most often is remembered not… lest she is shallowed or lost.
When night kisses day and day embraces night…Sunrise…Sunset;
But quick is their love and few but seem to notice.
A drunkard swaying to an fro; aware only of the blurred images before him,
Speaks the truth that most care not to hear.
I stand …Notice me not…