Last years catkins are still hanging on the tree,
Why are they there, are they waiting for us to see?
That the unnecessary clutter of the past,
Should be made to last and last!
The catkins will fall and as they do,
Our regrets will die as we wait for the new!
Only nature knows why if we stand and stare,
That all of our answers will be gathered there.
Our souls are as free as they always were;
Our past lies behind us the story told;
But what of the future waiting to unfold?