At Season's End

I don't have a lot to give
But I'll tell you what I've learned.  
There's but a short distance  
Between the shadow and the soul.  
We all want to mature, to bloom,  
Put down roots and prosper,  
Be beautiful, admired, appreciated  
Like wild flowers,  
But we crash into each other  
Awkward and ashamed.  
Flowers bloom where they are planted  
And die where they stand,  
Asleep in their beds or together    
Yet all alone in a field.  
Their pain echoes in our heart.  
They'll never know we miss them  
When they're gone.  
They live but for a season,  
Though for us time moves on.  
People change like autumn leaves  
And drift away on the wind,  
But the flowers we remember,  
Those we can't forget.  
We slog along  
Constantly editing ourselves,  
Trying to reinvent ourselves,  
Trying to repair our broken lives.  
New flowers are born each spring,  
But we must endure every winter.  
While everything around us is dying  
We must find a way to survive.  
So we live and we laugh,  
We trust and we love,  
We somehow find a way to get by  
Battered and bruised from fighting  
The ghosts of our past  
And when at last we die,  
They bring us flowers.  
Lay them on our grave ,  
Talk about how beautiful they are  
And how beautiful we were
In our brief season.