The tree watched,
As the little bird perched,
On the very branch brown,
Dried up, And brittle,
Among leaves dried down,
There is no youth,
Long gone, And lost,
As cold as winter frost,
Days of summer past,
A future without cost.
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Reviews of "Future Without Cost"
Reviewed by Amira van Kerk (Reader)
Reviewed on August 2, 2004
Agree with Sue.
It's the change of seasons, of life. Good things are gone, but surely others will come along our way.
Nice write.
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It's the change of seasons, of life. Good things are gone, but surely others will come along our way.
Nice write.