Some days our meadow is peaceful;
The daisies sway with the breeze
And our river sings a tune.
Some days our meadow is on fire;
Burning the grass with such passion
No one else could ever know.
Some days our meadow is only ashes;
The birds pick out the pink tulips
The fire had missed.
Some days our meadow grows back
From the tulips the birds had scavenged,
The daisies dance and the river sings.
Some days the fire comes back,
But we never fear her flame;
We welcome her passion.
Some days the fire goes out
Leaving only the ashes
We have to rebuild from.
Some days I fear our meadow will die.
Some days I fear the fire won’t burn.
Some days I fear only ashes of the past
Will be all that remains of our meadow of some days.
But our meadow always grows back,
Our fire always burns again;
But our ashes will always remain.