She tore a branch off an old dead tree..
She held it so and it molded into a guitar..
She played the song of the woods..
And the sky cried in the day..
The rain drops looked like diamonds in the setting sun..
She played till the moon rode high..
Crescent light of the night..
She then held the guitar to the old dead tree..
As it became a branch again..
She walked into the pale silver moonlight..
She shined for a moment and faded into the night..