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.