I lay out in the grass and talk to the earth.
The pine scent of your breath, in the breeze.
I hear the creatures of your forest chirp.
The salty taste of the open seas.
I feel the rain falling on my skin.
Like mine, your growth is never done.
My thoughts are blown away, with the wind.
I wither away happily, in the sun
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 12:28 AM UTC
I lay out in the grass and talk to the earth.
The pine scent of your breath, in the breeze.
I hear the creatures of your forest chirp.
The salty taste of the open seas.
I feel the rain falling on my skin.
Like mine, your growth is never done.
My thoughts are blown away, with the wind.
I wither away happily, in the sun