Another sway implies my natural maliability
Bring me the seasons in whatever form
Allow them to graze the forest in my fingertips
Gliding me in all directions
Always returning home
Roots galloping in the storm
Nurturing nature as it was meant to be
Frosted ice may find my shivers relaxed
I will not say no to this
Or any other thing for that matter
For i am a tree and cannot speak
And I do not believe you would listen
If I could