WEBVTT

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From the garden, hear the

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clinging of the chimes, the

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last tomatoes hanging

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shriveled on the vines.

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The autumn breezes just a

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promise of the free sets

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coming soon.

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The seasons fleeting,

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the days are blurring into

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years, the lines

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retreating.

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As every moment disappears,

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the stories end to leave

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Another to begin to start

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anew

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And in a thousand years,

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when all our bones have

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disappeared

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And every word has been

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erased

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Still, the rivers flow, the

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sun will glow, the seeds

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will grow, the wind will

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come and blow it all away,

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cause we are just a memo.