good friends come
and good friends go
like good summers gone past
we're all flowers that grow
in a garden and
blooming with joy
growing
with the people we know
and who we've gotten to know
just summers ago
and when it comes to pass
just like all the last
we can all look back on flowers
rising graciously
above the green grass
and when the skies had turned to blue
and the garden had not a drop of rain
a flower could always depend on the garden
to stop a flower's pain
and the flower began to flourish
while the garden was kind to nourish
and love and teach and have the patience to wait
while a young flower was realizing fate
as the wind blows the blossom away
and the flower finds the way to the gate
maybe their paths will cross again
another day
in the garden of a Church
where we all used to play
.
