Have you ever heard that growl
That comes from some beast's mighty bowls
A rumble from way down the street
That makes you shake from head to feet?
Have you seen the woods at night
So dark it's seems there's never light.
Have you walked right down a trail
Dressed in red, so small, so frail.
Have you ever felt such fear,
You wish to see your mother dear,
One last time before the beast
Takes you in and makes a feast?
Food from the basket in your hand,
Have you ever seen such teeth on Gran?
Or claws so thick, they're rip and tear
Just by passing through the air?
Have you ever heard it told,
Where beast keeps Red within his hold?
The woodsman fell asleep that night,
But never had the beast to fight.
So Red was eaten with the bread,
She'd saved for Gran, who'd been long dead!
So now, I think I'm willing to bet
That you haven't heard that ending yet!

The wind that dances with trees
drops Summer's snowflakes, golden leaves.
And on our heads it blows the breeze.
Softly whistles, turns, and flees.

The ground where sky and soil meet,
plush and green beneath our feet,
And when you sit, the softest seat,
It stretches long below the street.

The willow, tall, he bravely stands,
Ole Rue he's called across the land.
And if you climb, and take his hand,
You'll feel his face, as smooth as sand.

From your window in the mill
You'll see the willow on the hill.
The wind, the ground, all silent, still
Until you're back to feel their thrill.

To watch from below,
                  life expanding in every direction.
  I walk down a path of stone and soil,                  
     placid in comparison to the trees around me.
          I sit upon a stump, the wood colored with                                        
            darkened stains like abstract art of the gods.
I star out at the picture,                    
                                                                ­  unbroken,

and at its base,                              so vast, many arms
                                a willow;
wrapped and woven around its trunk would not      
                  touch on either side.
    Beyond the old willow, far distance mountains      
dressed decidedly as lingering fog, lay cluttered in powdered blue peaks along the horizon.
           I stood up, and approached the old      
       drawbridge, the metal rusted red on blue  
   railings. I smiled up at this miracle, where the    
      hands of Man and Mother Nature clasp
             in an embrace of grace and beauty,
                    and passed beneath it.
It was then I came upon the cliff,
                                             which drew up in a boast and dropped in a dare.
The ferns, in their envy, stretched to reach as high    
      as the speckled rocks that towered against a      
                      painted, sunset sky.  
   I pressed my toes to the cut and shrapnel of the  
   cliff, and descended, a leap if faith. For it is said, 'When a man jumps from a cliff, he could fall...or he could fly.'

Lost? No, wandering.
Alone? No, independent.
Afraid? Undoubtedly.

                                            Lost is never lost for long.
                                  Alone may never feel so wrong.
                                Afraid can never seem so strong.
                                              Never will never belong.

Separate? No, different.
Peculiar? No, quirky.
Crazy? Undeniably.

                                Separate's just a calloused touch.
                              Peculiar's just a weathered clutch.
                                        Crazy's just a mental crutch.
                                       Just has never been so much.

Style
        Texture
                    Shape
                 ­            And grace
They put the smiles on your face
                              Brown and
                   Green and
      Blue and
Grey
Eyes like that just make your day
Curly
       Wavy
*****
     Straight
You love all that, you think it's fate
                   Curvy
              Skinny
          Thin
Or not
Who cares about heart, you think she's hot.

Yet talent
   Skill
Passion
   Love
They're the things that life's made of.
Caring
                            Giving
                   ­                              Loving
                 Heart
They bring us together, not apart.
  Spirit
   Strength
    Sensitivity
Faith
Someone like that will keep you safe.

But money
Fashion
***
And greed
Those aren't things for which we were freed.