To George from Biff

Where does wind come from?
Where does it go?
How far does rain fall?
Would it rather be snow?

If sunlight could sleep,
would it dream of the night?
If moonlight could sing,
would its rhythm be tight?

Do flowers get happy
when it’s time to bloom?
And when it’s all over,
do they fall into gloom?

Do trees feel the pain
of leaves bursting forth?
Does Polaris realize
it helps point us north?

I don’t have those answers
but this one I do,
when asked who’s my true love
I always say you!
***

Almost caught up…yesterday’s poem used the NaPoWriMo.net prompt: write a poem entirely of questions, except the last line.

Apparently I get rhyme-y when I am pressed for time.