I sway in the breeze,
I flow through the trees,
And painlessly rid of this ailing disease.
Green are the trees,
Clean is the breeze,
As mind is slowly filled with ease.
I fly through the breeze,
I soar in the trees,
My mind and soul glide on the seas.
Where are the trees?
Where is the breeze?
What is this shaking within my knees?
Look at the trees,
Feel the cool breeze,
Peace, my mind feels and sees.
I sway with the trees,
I flow with the breeze,
And on the wind I glide with ease.
Too many trees!
Hurricane breeze!
Spiders stabbing and grabbing at me!
Gone are the trees,
Gone is the breeze,
Gone is the dream that filled me with ease.

© Erick Pratt