I hear the wind in the Pines
calling my name,
as though they are beckoning me,
to come forth and to answer
for sins of the past.

Sin's of the past are those of my father
and their fathers, before them, now gone.

For each of us must bear
all the anguish of ages
and make our amends
for those who have gone,
years before.

Away we will go,
like a kite in the wind.
Into the bluest of blue
in the cloudless sky.
Flit to the branch
of a new, growing tree,
catching the Sun
as it passes by.
Nothing could be more
grand, for those eyes
of mine to see,
a reflection in your eyes,
and an image of me.

The broad fields of green and gold,
with mountains high, that enfold.
the blue of lakes in your eyes,
slowly, slowly will mesmerize
my mind and it's thoughts
with over powering scent
of those Forget Me Nots.

As I grow old,
growing more bold,
saying what's on my mind.
Do you suppose that
if no one knows
or they would be unkind,
looking at me,
unexpecting to see,
a find of talent?