Yet a dead flower
Can leave a trace of beauty
So what will we leave?

Yet a dead flower
Can leave a trace of beauty
So what will we leave?
Each flower has its day
Every day comes to an end
We will rise again
The first signs of spring
Recall from memories depths
All that winter stole
Savour these moments
Pass them on, they will survive
Sap rising again
And as last year leaves
Decay to layers of loam
What do we pass on?
As each year passes
Another layer of leaves
Will bury the last
You give me reasons
To keep paddling upstream
Like my fathers did
We cut down forests
Or tangle them up in wire
We call it progress
With each step I sink
Deeper in the murky mire
Lost in a swamp blog
With each step I slide
Every weed I pull divides
Running to stand still