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Walking with Trees

Through the changing gardens of my years,
I roamed.

Where the leaves would promise, the whispers of home.
Where the branches would cradle the song of a child.
Where the sun danced to silver...
When the wind was wild.

Where the friends, I remember,
Were the trees of my youth...
And the spring in our steps,
Was the summer of truth.

Where I searched for the skies,
with the feathers that flew...
And the smile of my eyes...
Were the colours that grew.

Where my secret companions, would call me by name...
To the changing gardens of my years...
I came.

Where the flowers of future,
Were held in my hand...

Through the changing gardens...
Of my years...

I ran.



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