A song about a plum

There was a plum tree at the top of a hill,

It’s branches leant to one side,

The wind pushed them there as they grew,

I went there one hot day near the end of summer,

Climbing that hill was something to do,

Four days left of summer, four days left with you,

Climbing that hill was something we used to do.

There was a plum tree at the top of the hill,

It’s leaves were slowly turning brown,

From a branch just within my reach,

The last plum grew,

Climbing that hill to remember all the things we used to do,

Four days left of summer, four days left with you,

Climbing the hill to decide what to do.

The plum was sweeter than one really ought to be,

I threw the stone as far as it would go,

But the wind blew it back, the stone,

Landing at my feet I decided this is where it should stay,

At the top of the hill a new tree to grow.

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