In the yard at the back stands a Wollemi Pine;
a species thought lost, then discovered again.
It's grown tall and proud in the endless sunshine,
with nourishment garnered from fresh summer rain.
For years, close by there, a jeweller sat
crafting fine things with the skill of his hands;
as cockatiels shrieked while engaging in spats
with galahs on the grass where the young pine tree stands.
Now the workshop sits empty, the grass is all gone,
but still the tree flourishes, there in the yard.
Though the craftsman's departed, yet still he lives on;
to recognise him in his children's not hard.
For, just like two gemstones, with much loving care,
he shaped and he polished them when they were young;
and all who now know them would gladly declare
the evidence speaks of a job that's well done.
On a deck overlooking the Wollemi Pine
stands a woman who shared a lifetime with that man.
Though his loss brought on darkness, yet still there's sunshine
each time she remembers, as only she can,
how he once stole her heart; and still fresh in her mind
are fond memories built on adventures they shared;
a man who was diligent, thoughtful and kind—
through ups and through downs, always showing he cared.
In the yard at the back stands a Wollemi Pine.
Though one day years from now the tree, too, will be gone,
our lives bear the richness of full-bodied wine
while the memories of those that we love linger on.