Just a memory
Of years gone by
Spring’s call cannot
Coax the leaves to appear ever again

Just a memory
Of years gone by
Spring’s call cannot
Coax the leaves to appear ever again

Winter’s secrets fade
With Spring’s red dawn
A tree whispers its leaves awake
Others, silent forever

The yellow door holds
Its secrets dear, yet beckons
To each passerby

Find them anywhere
And everywhere, little
Libraries to share

Nothing to see here
Just a pile of pipes, sitting
Alone, forgotten
