Withering flowers and the fallen leaves
Do they think life ends there?
Kissing the soil and hugging the ground,
Do they relish a new beginning?
The flowing river and merging flows,
Do they finish the journey at the sea?
Meeting new friends and exploring new levels,
Do they begin their endless trail?
Beauty in nature and peace in life,
Do poets preach what they’ve seen and felt?
Lost in the crowd and unheard in the chaos,
Do they yearn for the unknown?
Why do poets sing of trees, and flowers, and rivers, and the Sun and the rain?
Why do they say what’s been said,
Why do they see what’s been seen,
Why do they want what’s never there!
The Last Straw 