The Wind

Oh how the leaves do blow.
They tumble here and there
And flutter fast and slow.

To watch them is so queer
Because despite their tries
They're never blown to where
Their wanted areas lie.

Instead they're forced about,
Romantically opposed,
And Will to Force's bout
Does symphony compose.

In chorus they all make
A fighting sight and noise;
But the wind in end does take
Their right to knowing joys.

Oh how the leaves do flow.
They tumble here and there
And flutter fast and slow.

Now once, one rare old time,
Two leaves from different trees
Did in the other find
A love that weakens knees.

So oft' were they blown near,
So many times before,
But this time they would hear
The sounds not heard before.

This one time would allow
The two paths to entwine.
Though they'd not know quite how,
This time would turn divine.

Oh how the leaves do grow.
They tumble here and there
And flutter fast and slow.

In each they both could find
What others did not enjoy:
A similar state of mind
In playing wind's dear toy.

They loved to blow around,
To go from here to there,
And sometimes to be found
Places they'd not know where.

For now they'd both find glee;
They'd closely tangled fly.
Together they'd be free,
And when calmed, together could lie.

Oh how the leaves do know.
They tumble here and there
And flutter fast and slow.

But soon their nature would
In slow strong paces come,
And whether for worse or good,
Would pull each other from.

It'd pull the two apart;
So gaily as they lie.
They'd both of them depart
Not helping but to cry.

And onward they would go
Enjoy doing what they please,
But they would always know
That love that weakens knees.

Oh how the leaves do go.
They tumble here and there
And flutter fast and slow.