He will never wake


In the flowering days of spring,
the merry robin bird does sing,
with fiery feathers ‘cross his breast,
perched atop his crafted nest.
His joyous song carries far and wide,
yet all the joy in me has died.

He is the scent of the flowers bloom,
He is the robin’s merry tune.
He is the love that pains the heart,
He is the grief that tears me apart.
A thousand times thine heart should ache,
and know that he will never wake.

In the leisurely days of summer,
squirrels fall victim to boundless slumber.
When the sun dips beneath its line,
and lends its pigment to the sky.
The squirrel awakes and leaves it’s tree,
It's tail upright and dawned with glee.
Their endless chatter never cleft.
I haven’t chattered since he left.

He is the shine of the sun’s first rays,
He is the being that lengthens the days.
He is the spirit that mends the soul.
He is the reason stories are told.
A thousand times thine heart should ache,
and know that he will never wake.

On the ripened days of autumn,
the leaves are dyed and reach the bottom.
The reddened fox has shed her fur,
for new beginnings shall now occur.
She begins her yearly hunt at night,
Never to wrestle with thoughtful plight.

The fox has no remorse and forgets her ways,
But I will never forget his gaze.

He is the leaves that turn red and gold,
He is the crisp air turning cold.
He is the happiness behind the smile,
He is the agony, ever so mild.
A thousand times thine heart should ache,
and know that he will never wake.

In the chilling days of winter,
the snowshoe hare becomes a sprinter.
With lovely fur made of frost,
where food is scarce, it’s life a cost.
It’s covering shields it from all danger,
yet it couldn’t shield thou from my anger.

He was the breeze that stirs the snow,
He was the stars in heaven aglow.
He was the beauty of the earth,
He was the reason I was hurt.
A thousand times thine heart should ache,
and know that he will never wake.

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