Beneath a shade tree, hanging out alone,
I strum my guitar, picking out a tune.I sip my juice and think of seeds I’ve sown.
Those I’ve so long ignored will grow up soon.
I feel a pang of sorrow for each seed,
and regret as I watch them sprout and bloom.
I hadn’t had the nerve to pay them heed
and I realize the impending doom
will fall on those deserving better care.They long for safety and security.
Instead, the battles rage when I’m not there.
So with each new day, do they think of me?
Do they know they are precious to a ghost,
whose fortune was to drown far off the coast?