WINDS
WHAT SWEET LOVELINESS DO I NOW SEE, AS THE WIND BLOWS SOFTLY THROUGH THE TREES? THE BRANCHES SWAY AND GENTLY BLOW AS THE LEAVES LAUGHINGLY DANCE UPON TIP-TOE.
THE COLORS ARE SO WONDROUSLY BEAUTIFUL AS THE LEAVES FLOAT ON THE WINDS OF FALL. THEY DRIFT, EVER SO SLOWLY, TO THE GROUND, WHEN THEY ALIGHT, THEY MAKE NOT A SOUND.
SUCH GLORIOUS COLORS ARE BLOWN FREE BY THE WINDS HOVERING OVER THE TREES. SUCH WONDERS FACE US, ONE AND ALL, WHEN WINDS BLOW THE COLORS OF THE FALL.
DANCING, ENCHANTING, SUCH BEAUTY WE SEE, FLOATING GENTLY FROM TREE TO TREE. THE WIND POURS OVER THE GRASSES, TOO AND KISSES THE FLOWERS, ALL COVERED WITH DEW.
THE LOVERS WALK BENEATH THE NEW MOON, THE WIND SOFTLY TOUCHES THEIR FACES, AND SOON THEY DANCE AMONG THE LEAVES OF RED AND GOLD, AND PLEDGE FOREVER TO HAVE AND TO HOLD,
EACH OTHER TIGHTLY, AS THE WIND MOVES THE TREES, NEVER FORSAKE THE OTHER, AND TO ALWAYS PLEASE THEIR LOVER FOREVER UNDERNEATH THE SOFT MOON, AS THE WIND CARESSES THE WATERS OF THE DEEP, BLUE LAGOON.
© 1998
Tulsabutterfly
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