The giving tree.
They insult the widow like she can't hear them.
They've dropped you, and folded, and refused you.
But I'll come back for you, love.
I won't forget you, love.
I'll be your brightest green when you turn grey.
At least somebody, will be there.
The warmth was threatening to disappear.
But it always comes back again.
Don't die on me now, love.
I'll come back for you, I promised to.