The Sun peeked through the leaves
As we went for our final walk.
We were not to know,
but then we always were never to know anything.
Silently we trotted towards our end,
As always expecting a treasure
Sweet words, Sweet Treats,
None so any better now.
Maybe they are not meant to be,
But if they were, these shoudln't be.
Live it all up a little,
For many moons of the spirit
May come and go all across
Never to be an evil spirit on the trees.