Spring sprang from leaves of old, my memory foretold,
With the kind breeze, the leaves; the trees stretched through my time,
Spawned, is the wind that came, from the depths of old land,
From deep blue oceans, pass salty air that sings,
And so what grew was fine, my roots bore deep and stand,
Under the stars that shine, silver stone moon aligns,
In the great wild green, besides the universe,
The trees stretch their arms out, in flowering times of Spring,
Though past the stormy seas, my hidden shadows cry,
Stories foretell my skye, but roam free in dark spaces,
How the leaves are fallen, they follow graceful seas,
Treading the tides to shore, dark rises through corals,
But what of the fading, white corals showing signs,
..
But what scripts will Gods sing, what kind leaf will float free,
How will the whale sing? Will we hear their last songs

Poem designed by.
© balcar