I found a hole
under the sycamore tree
We used to play when we were kids
The sun was setting
I was finally free.
The wind turned into a soft breeze
The sycamore tree birthed new leaves.
I climbed the trunk and over the hill
I saw birds singing old and sweet melodies
The sun was setting
I was finally free.
From the hole I found
Under the sycamore tree
Was now flowing a lucid stream
And from there flourished-the whitest lilies
Making it plain God paid me a visit