Adults we stand for time has passed us by
our childish ways have bloomed into a blight
the roots we set, now gnarled, so pained decry
the faces of springtime love's delight.
Upon foul winds you've flown, you've left
a thief without the strength to be forthright.
A fallen limb, a rotting bough bereft,
Am I to lay alone as Winter comes...
as you bloom again within a riper cleft.
Is this your wish and how your pledge succumbs?
By sins of the flesh, we've been undone
and I will not forgive what you've become.