Wednesday, May 7, 2014

I wrote this over 40 years ago. ~Bob

Will There Be Spring?

Will there be spring when I am gone?
Will apple blossoms bloom?
Will bobwhite shed his heavy gloom,
And dandelions fill the lawn,
When I am gone?

Will there be spring when I am dust?
Will daffodils yet try
To fill the fields beneath the sky,
When pen and sword have gone to rust,
As go they must?

There will be spring when I have died,
For life must roll along,
So I have filled the air with song
Of joyous laughter, love and pride—

That will abide.

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