What beauty is always there
Beauty in it's sadness
Beauty in it's joy
Sunlight through branches bare
Filtered through leaves of green
Warm on skin, warm within
Dancing on my hair
How many times has a poet tried to say
Tried to explain
In that fleeting moment
What passed through his soul that way
Something he couldn't hold on to
Danced before him
Vivid...then dim
Until it finally slipped away
Left him sitting in the night
A silouette
Under a moon
The shadow of his pen on white
No metaphor could capture then...
His figure part
Of nature's art
Become a poem for a poet to write

i can relate. nice work.