buried now within the ground
Hurried, hasty, rapidly
As though bamboo an inch, no three
Top parting in trees a brush of breeze
The view but now of forest tops
Presumes to see all from this high spot.
A bough of limb I know it naught
Repulsion is presumable
Recollection of an ele-phant
A time of dirt and mud and rain
A world once and never the same
Silly boy remains untamed
Burdens to relinquish his claim
A plot he dug quite long ago
Small hope to unearth it though
Never a plan to expect
an empty spot
Regret.
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