Panda's are beautiful when they sneeze which goes "squeak", Aloft her days so innocent amd meek.
Panda's are beautiful when they're fierce without end, Finding new pathways making "No Exit" signs bend.
A Panda knows it's beauty by the rush of the leaves and the wind behind it's ear, Even though it's cold at times there's always a Tiger near. But one Tiger watches each year, And sees every tear, Without hesitation he draws near.
And time passes and leaves fall, Seemlessly with no worries at all. And footsteps cross, change, end but retrace to join on adventures again. Oh the meaning of something so small, Night comes and covers them all.
And again the wind blows across her ear,
But this time making her warm, Cause he growls for her and pours his Tigerish words along the wind in hopes that they might reach something dear.
The rustle in the midnight when no wind blows, As silence becomes them something is found. Something small, the Tiger picks up, but bigger than her heart. It's the key that unlocks everything, It was laying on the ground, Nothing is left un opened as the wind through her heart shows.
She loves him and he has always returned it. Though rain may force it's meaning to change, It only defines deeper the warmth of the wind...
Panda's are beautiful when they sing the wrong notes, The right ones, the flat ones or completely different song. They'll reach his heart deeply as they rustle along!
