The Woods

What do you feel,
When your fingers brush,
The tips of my branches?
When your feet crunch,
My fallen thistles,
What do you wish?
Is it wisdom that you seek, my child?
The secrets of my lengthy life?
The peace of my woods?
When you tiptoe through my forest,
Your fingertips caressing,
My rough edges,
When you tip your head to the sky,
And your eyes flutter closed,
I will let the sunshine in for you.
I will dance with you,
My branches swaying in the wind
To lift your heart.
Sing you words of love,
Through the whispers,
Of the wind.
Come run within my forest, my child
And I will impart to you
All that I have learned
Adorn you with a flowered crown
And teach you the ways of the woods.

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