There Are Young Hawks In The Trees Poem by Peter S. Quinn

There are young hawks in the trees,
Those are longing to be free;
We are all born to fly away,
Conquer nests in a new born day.
Shall we ever find what we are looking for,
If in our search we are not sure?
There are young hawks in the trees,
Shall they ever fly away into the summer breeze?

There are flowers in the snow,
Those are longing to grow old;
But shall we ever really know,
Because their story still is untold.
Shall we ever find what we are looking for,
If in our search we are not sure?
There are flowers in the snow,
Shall they ever into the summer grow and glow?

We come all to life like this,
With our future bright and strong;
We have all the same to wish,
When we begin quite so young,
Shall we ever find what we are looking for?
If in our search we are not sure?
We come all to life like this,
That's what this whole world of purpose is.