Imagine That

He looked at life through polished glass, refracting every tone and hue. He took his time for life to pass, imagining a longer view. Befitting beauty, flowers die as they with early winter meet, though wither comes, the loving eye imagines blossoms ever sweet. Eternal, lyrical and young we must at last admit his means. His sweetest song upon our tongue through all the seasons, all the scenes will live forever. Though we cried-- imagine that he never died. ~ John Lennon 1940-1980