“Growth”
If my fortunes should one day fade,
And experience dull the sharp edge of fame,
And popularity precipitate out of its false solution
To rub salt into the wounds of life’s insults –
When the rest of the world is still waiting to win this game,
Just give me an orchard of my very own,
With trees I can call by name. A living database of the ones who stayed,
The ones I helped raise,
Even the ones who got away:
Each one a monument to the moment we gave ourselves the permis