What of life but fleeting romance
with the sky and the grass and the daisies;
to roll around and to get up but once,
before too long and you’re set in stone.
And the wonder’s lustre is somewhat dulled
but the instinct’s muster is to keep abound;
for when there is no life there is nothing
and to err is human and to live, something;
but to hold onto anything and not let go.