Whatever it is...

...poetry, or schmoetry, I am going to share it.

Neverbrown
By the green lake a willow grows
On the green lake the willow leaves float
In the green lake ripples cast a shade of green
Like a willow tree.

And a black, black crow flies far overhead
Calling out with hoarse voice,
And a white, white dove flies far overhead
With no voice aloud to hear,
In the green land,
In a never brown one, green--
Like a willow tree.

And a brown, brown tree grows up towards the sky
Dark and knobby, stuck with sap,
And a pink, pink flower grows up from the tree,
Pale and smooth, all softly grown,
In the green land,
In a never brown one, green--
Like a willow tree.

By the green lake a willow grows
On the green lake the willow leaves float
In the green lake ripples cast a shade of green
Like a willow tree.