Cool morning breeze rattles the leaves,
Green, everywhere I look is green,
The hum of mowers, the flapping of flags,
A sign that life moves onward in a silent song.
Green grass hides the chirp of crickets,
A decaying tree juts from the ground,
Life, that beautiful monstrosity continues,
In the chirp of a bug, or in the hum of machinery.
My mind is not green but black,
A vacant lot of dashed hopes and dreams,
The power of hope lingers in the small light,
The silent song of a life not completed.