I fall like Oak leaves, sprouting bright again in spring. The winter is cold... Snow, though is water that lasts long to propel later growth.
Eyes low; heart deeper World relaxed on my shoulders I keep moving though
Wind blows me daily. Sun counts all our days alike. Still, I can't let go.
Cold shoulders, warm suns, new breaths, chances to renew never go to waste.
Tunes play hide and seek with consciouness. I sip my sunrise dark. Sweet.
Wondering in wind how I see self pages and don't recognize.