Pines

Pines, tall and lean
Get picked off one by one
Shimmer in the streetlights
And shiver in the sun

Cold is so mean
But what do they know
They lean in the wind
And sleep in the snow

Blight of the spring
Was eased by the chill
The whisper of leaves
Was suddenly still

We counted the rings
Worked out every hole
Sometimes only rats
Can sick in the soul [?]

The boughs held the heart
Of the avenue 'til
We wrapped all our lies
In trees that took ill

And stay here 'til spring
And sleep in the snow
And let our hearts ache
For things that won't grow