Hide the petals underneath that bedroom floorboard
and they will wither without fail or success
Put the people in the hollow box they crafted,
bolt the doors and watch them perish
Its a cautious descent, so polite and pensive at first
But the only truth is change, have patience
(every hundredth year, a single breath and then its over)
Even if only for a minute for a minute its over
Even if only for a minute
So brave in the face of all those roots that ruin,
to stand so tall when in fact in ruins
To face that corner of the box and dive in,
just the sound alone of its humble breath
A murmur from the ruins echoes softly as the roots undo, and the branch becomes