Friday, April 20, 2007

a place...

I walk through the trees
And the flowers and fields
And sometimes I feel
That they are like shields

Shields from reality
And sadness and sorrow
I love this place!
I’ll come back tomorrow

And then when I’m feeling
Sad or alone,
I go back to my fields
‘Cause they feel like home

I talk to the flowers,
They seem to know
Just what it’s like
To have the wind blow

My wind is imagined
Theirs is real
So I guess they must know
Just how I feel

The wind always bends them
Doesn’t care at all
But they seem resistant
To just give up and fall

I wish I was like them
So strong and so bold
But I always seem
To just crumble and fold

So I stay with my flowers
As long as I can
Till it seems almost like
They just about ran

I tell them my secrets
‘Cause they’ll never tell
And that’s why I tend them

So gentle and well

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