As I,
Once lived;
On great mountains;
Making not a piece of sound.
And in my dying moments,
I lay silent in a bed of pretty flowers.
I’m crushed, with my skin of shaded brown,
Now a part of the Earth' ground as it erodes.
In the wind, I whisper whisperings of my time,
A forgotten season lost in winter, and life.
In a forest filled to the brim of dreams,
Parked underneath the shade,
Once guarded, and unafraid.
And what a shame,
Soon I’ll be gone
With the wind,
Forgotten
Of
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