Sometimes, in acts of freedom true

The lover hast a dying gasp.

Lost souls may find each other new

Warm hands o'er frozen hearts to clasp.

Through silent wood I've walked alone

(The shrug and cold leave them behind)

To withered Redwood my axe have shown,

And Chance a baby growth didst find.

Ah! new leaves so young and bold,

The color Time will never touch,

Though painful truths he may unfold -

The truth which Time allows as such.

My heart will rain; on leaves I give.

But Time, and you, will make it live.

written by Rider Strong