Grey skies overhead.

Blue seas below, waving.

Green trees, hoping for a chance to start anew.

Red fire giving trees a chance.

Grey skies put the fire out, the sea ceases its spread, the trees start anew.

The fire may burn, but the forest goes on.

Grey skies won't stop a choir from a song.

Death is never expected, never in this way,

But moving on is the stinger, and time the stingray.

The forest will lose its green, but it will start anew.

And from these lines, my grief, I share with you.

Stand, sea the skies, the sea, the trees, the fire,

Stand, for your loss, we will love and never tire.

The words herein, are not meant to be clever,

They are meant for you, for them, and forever.