We can't hear the tree breathe
We can't see a leaf feed
We can't tell it traps time in its core
We saplings, we planted
We just take for granted
There'll always be rings to explore.
Spent nine months dreaming on my back. Opened up new horizons, if only horizontal.
Woke up disabled, with a Blue Badge and bed hair.
Walk with a limp and a stick.
Cue the double entendré and the stick.
Saving money on shoes.
Spending it on thoughts.
Overdrawn at the creative bank.
Loan facility disabled.
The irony!
Stronger through weakness.
Weaker through slogans.
New journeys to be taken.
Pop along.
I'm off my back.
I'm back.
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