The Things That Passed

A wise elm tree of branches sprout out To a lovely painted sky in a mass of clouds. Treasures granted to surprise in no doubt Carnaging every figure it endures and allows. Freeing the birds grip of the electric wire And easing a great love that you conspire. How many more were there to forecast? Though these were the things that passed. The pretty girl of lace And her intruding pace, Cowers and lovingly completes her task Covering an adorning face under that mask. A continuing motion forces the views: A faint dash of green paint upon the grass. To the lazy lemon tree dropping tangy dews That caresses a taste of tongue I could use. To my right holds art strung in the hands Of a dear with curling locks of licorice. Buying the thought she surely commands, She knows all else but her is gibberish. Upon arrival to the house under a hill, A youthful Japanese-Maple has sprung. Surrounded in a barrier of grass embroidering A beige cast that glooms your mood unrung. Yet these treasures wont stay for everlast, These were the things that passed.