When I am Old

 

A day,

I would be less conscious of

Of a sojourn I wouldn't remember

When snow would please me none

Let my chimney burn with smoke

Ere kids gift me lavender berries

Let me bake a black forest.

My pastel walls would peel off soon

And meowing cats would roll off yarns

Flowy flocks would not beam

With velvety bangs I once had.

When my eyes would deny the tint it had

And dawn would break with hue less shines

Thus, I would lay

On this bed of blue bells

Grieve me not

Youthful as April I had been

Remember,

A petal withers once 

But blooms yet again.