Will you remember me,
Once I'm gone and washed away?
Will the things I've passed along,
Continue to blossom down the line,
Like flowers after rain?
Will you forget all the times,
That I was bitter and wrong?
Will you tell the children,
Of who I was in life,
Instead of who I tried to be?
Will you visit where I lay,
When winter has left the meadow?
Will you bring me a crown,
From the tree called laurel,
If your hands find the time?
