The countless upon countless
Leaves of grass dance in the street;
They’ll rise in countless seasons,
And, in death, they all shall meet.

As time shifts from bloody womb,
Love seems to fade and loss looms;
Clear skies, that once shone bright blue,
Are now choked, by life’s dark fumes.

Innumerable tears, like years,
Fall from waving leaves on grass,
But, from drop to drop, who knows
Just what may still come to pass.