Poetry

The Little Poem

Through the woods I will run,
Dreaming all that I’ve done;
Changing all, I will stand,
Doing all that I’ve dreamt.

At the Sun I will cry,
Truthing all that I’ve lied;
In the rain I will laugh,
Lying that it’s not rough.

In the sky I will fall,
Broken wings wearing tall;
To the ground I will fly,
Falling down from the sky.

To the Moon I will tell
All my stories as well,
In the Earth she will plant
Seeds of trees in the sand.

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