My Friend, Nature

Once there was a little girl, and her name was Pearl.
Her eyes were made of summer sky and her hair of golden curls.
For her lips she had an autumn leaf.
For her cheeks a scarlet red.
Her arms were made of buttercups
a reef adorned her head
 Her hair was made of marigolds,
and a white cloud was her bed.
She was the dearest thing I ever knew;
but now my Pearl is dead.

We used to play in the glen until the day was done.
At night she was a shining star, in day she was the sun.
I miss those days when we used to play, (she was my only friend),
But I understand that on this earth, all things must have an end.

The day I left the country-side to live where buildings grow high,
I searched for her here and there, but she was nowhere nigh.
I was told that my friend was now obliged to die,
I missed her so, so very much although I did not cry.

Time flew by and I grew old,
and stricken with my years,
I missed my friend more than ever, and shed so many tears.
I took my things and stuffed them all in my little sack.
I boarded a train, I was so glad, for I was headed back!
When I arrived I went straight to the dear familiar glen,
and there she was, not a day older,
and I - a child again.