the girl

In my old town there was a girl, She dropped seeds everywhere she went, While all the boys carved out their names, In any patch of wet cement, They'd laugh at her and tell her, She would never make a mark, If all she left behind her, Were some falling leaves and bark, So I wonder if they've been back, Since we grew and left that place, Or if they still all carry markers, In their pockets just in case, Because I'd love to see their faces, If I told them what I've seen, That the streets where we once played, Now drown beneath a sea of green, And their names scratched on the sidewalk, Weren't as eternal as they'd planned, For in the place where they once wrote them, An endless forest proudly stands, Would they tell that girl they're sorry, If they ever had the choice, For not knowing those worth hearing, Don't always have the loudest voice? That in the future all the things we do, Will still have an effect, And that sometimes those who change the world, Are those you least expect.