Well, it ain't Shakespeare . . .

Some of you asked me to post the poem, so here you go.


The Green World

For a time I lived it,
true and free of ill.
What happened there I know
and will remember still.
Each day was but an hour,
more glorious than the last--
Of things unknown but longed for;
Brief echoes of the past

We cannot linger here;
to know is still too much.
Impatient worlds await
a new and surer touch
Shadows dance with joy,
regrets and fears collide
with impish glee and mirth--
too many things to hide

There is no perfection there
only honesty and truth--
Things unknown,
unseen,
unheard
yet every sense alive--
In this land of make believe
Where even faith must rise

-Mel