The leaves have turned,
               Green, golden, ground.
               Trampled underfoot,
               Not a single bit of attention paid.                         

               Rain soaked,
               Glistening in the moonlight.
               Diamonds and stars,
               Lighting the way.                                           

               From the branches more leaves grow,
               Their fate is unpreventable.
               But they sprout up with hope.
               But there destiny is always the same.                       

               Green, golden.
               Ground.