I cry cowardly over my leather shoes

The moan of hateful speech

Beacons a new wrath

The exotic clover has grown

Dried up and shriveled

Bequeathed

For the next generation

A sensational generation

My hope and dream

So I do my part in planting hope and optimism

Even in this world of ever deep division

Our hopes and dreams

Bequeathed from our fathers and mothers

Have been squandered away

On cheap things