Shh. Listen to the leaves drift their own way.
"Come with me, follow close, here unfolds,
the story of my life.
Mother MAY, she says to me,
long ago, an ancestor released her seeds to the wind.
Oh, the wind you must know.
She's beautiful and gray,
she's the one that makes spring gay.
She rustles through your hair time,
she moves you to where you belong,
carrying with her the dreams of those,
who hold on to the earth.
From the wind, open-armed soil
comes to meet.
There in, breath becomes anew.
Life's cycle starts for fresh.
A little pocket opens up,
arms outstretch,
and the yummy part begins.
Eating, chewing, filling bellies with desire.
Until we can grow to the heights of what is expected,
rise above, and surpass anyone's thoughts.
Then come the leaves, our brethen.
Keeping us warm, holding us tight.
Loving us like a love we could never think to know.
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