Seeds are planted

To grow fields of life giving flowers

Making the world grow round

They blossom yellow bright

In the field they delight

But one last frost comes before the midsummer night

Scarring and ravaging all blooms but one

There she stands in a field of broken friends

Who loved to play and dance

Instead they died, meeting their ends

The winter had been long, gripping and hard

The farmer with her golden locks blowing

Deep in her belly, aching

An old sore awaking

Weak and still, where was once free will

Now flower and farmer standing in the field

Together and