There are fields of ancient flowers
They wither but never die
They rise again
to build floors of colored gold
Imagine how much they have seen
The time that has gone by
From cavemen to wikings
dinosaurs to bears
If only they could whisper
in all of our two ears
All their learnings
throughout the years
Maybe we could learn
how to be carriers of gold
Without ever wither blood
Josie Mattsson 