The deer in the park
watch me with curiosity.
What mysteries of life have I found?
Do I know the way
to the ever-green grass?

With the breeze, they fade away --
only daydreams --
and I look to memory:

Home in Virginia, the summer fields,
winter meadows,
spring brooks...

Enough years I've lived
to know them all many times.

But the ever-green grass
I have yet to find.
Only in daydreams,
seeming a little greener each year.