Dear Lily, do you remember
Of the days of laughter and joy
When swings used to give us wings
And the meadows a lush jungle.
How is your brother doing these days?
Is he still writing songs of love
That he would sing for us
On the sunniest of days?
We should meet again someday
At the sad, old weeping tree.
It was always weeping in misery
And I was always crying for hope to settle
Until dawn rose over the golden hills.
It and I are quite similar in the way
That it never stopped weeping
And I never stopped crying.

A last goodbye from your dear friend.