Picture the world of your childhood
Forget everything you have learned since you were five
Do you feel the bathtub of yellow and blue
All its everlasting brightness? Now, then becomes now
Colors lose the repressive connotations of memory
We have all become far too old

I watch the tourists from a mousehole
And can’t help but laugh
None of them are at all conscious of the flowers
By virtue of this, I am sure this tree is for us

The nature of reality eludes
Even as it becomes clearer
With each minute sign of spring
Memory is obvious
A disastrous rabbit hole 
So full of material revelry
Both imagined and not