Mornings Of Freshness Briefs Poem by Peter S. Quinn

I have always tried to find
Something that will last
What is left here behind?
In its memory and its past
Something that I knew before
In my heart marked for its while
What the days have in their store
That leads them to each new trial

A love is like a flower growing
In springtime and there on
And then to the autumn's going
To carry seeds that are done
Washing away all the leaves
On to the winter grayly sight
Mornings with their freshness briefs
Falling to diffuseness their light

Everything that we had known
Gone into the passing ways
In to the new roots there grown
Their clusters of cloudlets haze
Something will stand though there
Giving back some satisfaction
Through moments passing here
Each in its habits new interaction