tomorrow

The weeping tree hides - beautiful
flowers of sunshine beneath it's wings,
boughs of white plasters
and tendrils of olive hued hair.

Tears fill the dryads eyes
such ligfht and such pain.
They must survive
these flowers of sunshine,
our flowers of sunshine.

She twists her damp hair - sway
wrung out clear droplets of hope.
Feeding dreams of loving again
and children of tommorow.
Tomorrows are always sunny days.

Yet,time passes.
Sunshine falls down drowning - no more,
shadows can't protect you forever.
Gone to far gone,
the dryad cries outloud alone.

Time passes,less tears.
Sunshine dies always,
but comes back always - like tomorrows.
Those tommorrows of sunshine,
we wait for always.

We're never alone,
the weeping tree can't hide that truth.
So she weep for the world
until freedom comes,until the return
of sunny days and their flowers.

Until then,
tomorrow.