Native Tone


A silent breeze in the cool air,
Perhaps more than the small child could bare.
It was as if the trees were speaking a native tone;
The little girl glanced up, waiting for the spirit to be shown.
But no one appeared, only petals dancing on the ground;
Was this some kind of magic? She dared not make a sound.
The trees began to lift their leaves;
The child didn't know what to believe.
"Who's there" she asked in a whisper;
She stumbled back, getting a blister.
The tree began to dance once again in the fog;
And that's the moment she realized this was not where she belonged.
This forest was filled with a loving spirit,
But since she was so young, she could barely hear it.

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