How the wind chases after the frolic
Of youth, given into dying leaves.
The forest air is changing colors quickly,
I barely saw the bees buzzing in heat,
Now the trees are growing barren; empty.
Found grave beauty in the naked forest.
But fairies do not dance the same without,
The timbrels of spring twirling through the air.
Jul 23, 2024
Jul 23, 2024 at 11:15 AM UTC
How the wind chases after the frolic
Of youth, given into dying leaves.
The forest air is changing colors quickly,
I barely saw the bees buzzing in heat,
Now the trees are growing barren; empty.
Found grave beauty in the naked forest.
But fairies do not dance the same without,
The timbrels of spring twirling through the air.