Sparkling trees of
silver foam
Cast shadows in
winter home,
Swaying branches
breaking sound,
Lonely forest
trembling ground.
Masquerading leaves
of blue run circles round the morning dew,
Patterns understood
by you, reaching out beyond and before.
Time, like gold
dust, brings mind down to hidden levels underground,
Say a few words to
the wind, that’s all that’s left of winter’s friend.
Reaching the snow in
the days of the cold, casting a spell out of ice.
Now that you’re
gone,
The summer’s too
long and it seems like the end of my life
Beyond and before.
Time, like gold
dust, brings mind down.
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