At One

 At one

Will I smell them next year, the honeysuckle and the rose,
Will I see the daffodils? – Who knows?
Will I walk that meadow sweet, and stand against its stream,
Or must I face the bitter wind, and was it all a dream?

Will I walk that heathered hill and smell its peated scent,
Will I rest in woodland, and sing my soft lament,
Will I feel the softness of the spring rain on my face,
And once again become as one, with nature in that place?

Will I see the wonderment as nature’s seasons change,
Will I see the harvest moon, in the autumn rearrange,
Will I witness frosty patterns on my window pane,
Will I see my own life’s breath, in freezing winter rain?

Will I see these things again? – That’s not for me to say,
My future now, is in my past, for I have had my day,
But what I wish, is that what I had, would come again to me,
Then I would be at one with life,  for all eternity.

Mick.