Doylestown Spring Morning

DOYLESTOWN SPRING MORNING Consider this, as buds break out on trees not yet a leaf, the sight that no one sees as walking through the borough mesmerized past ancient mansions seen, not realized ; through early morning air, our sence of smell arouses to a bagels morning bell, it tells us to awake this is a day we gain another try to make our way past tiny shops of books and pottery of artists that record what used to be and at sidewalk cafes, we take a pause considering what's real, or never was. We hear the groan of traffic come alive the buzzing of our time and constant hive but who can see the budding of the tree that's made for us to always never see? Consider this, of time we've none to spare to capture in our heart the birthing there no longer for a blinking of the eye what time has brought along too soon will die. © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet