When you trade rich forest green
For muted concrete gray;
Painting your self-portrait
Amongst stagnant buildings, not thriving trees.
When the earth dances
Of its own volition,
Only where you now are,
While I’m standing still, still here.
When the wildfire spreads,
Stretching to the Heavens above,
Sending smoke signals
To those you used to claim to love.
When distance doesn’t make
The heart grow fonder,
Out of sight is out of mind.
When soon becomes never again.
I hope you are home,
Where the snow won’t reach you.