Sweet words will flow like breezes through the trees and butterflies
Will flit behind the wisdom of their eyes
Unseen behind the plate of grits
Unheard beside the buzz of children’s laughter
Adults after only
What they might achieve
What dreams may come.
Sweet bumblebees will hum with butterflies among those trees
And fallen leaves alight upon the page
The wisest sage
Beside the bravest stranger sits
Unheard the greatest wisdom of the age
The ones who we ignore
May yet know this and more
And dreams may come.
Sweet butterflies will turn and fly away perhaps today
But dreams will stay.