Isn\'t it just so poetic
that we live and then we die?
we strive for happiness
and a reason why?
yet when times are joyful
in one single moment
they can turn dark
and then from out of nowhere
the darkness turns into light
from just a single spark
isn\'t it ironic that music is unseen?
and our hearing notes on deaf ears
our emotions gifting tears
and thus the beauty of the seasons
as we look out of the window fair
to see the blurs of the great oak tree
that leave nothing but branches bare
walking up the path so frail
wondering where our lives have gone?
wandering where all the poet\'s lines end up?
and if we\'ll leave our poetic songs?