Bill Hunt Loading

Nature wins

As ever
The things we do
The things we make
The things we say
Will in time be rusted
Worn and washed away

Our dreams and cares will pass
Our arms and hands
And legs and feet
Our brains and hearts
No more or less than trees and leaves and grass
Will die and fade

The sun will set at last

© 1902, ThaumatropeMind. All rights reserved

Bill Hunt