Once a thought came to my mind
It was spring blooming around,
That thought did flourish and find
As a seed its way out of ground.
Then to my hands and eyes
As vernal colours it shone,
Straight out of its disguise
A full poem at early dawn.
Seasons passed, as rivers did flow
Hastening towards the sea,
Flowers did change and did grow
Into dead ghosts inside of me.
Then a thought appeared again
It was winter glooming around,
Clouds where heavy and the rain
Was rhyming the dark ground.
So to my mind that thought came
But not to my hands and eyes,
It grew fragile, it grew lame
For no sun was in the skies.
No poem nor any work showed there
And that thought poisoned me,
That's true they say and that's fair;
A caterpillar is meant to roam the air;
Otherwise, pestilent would be.
