Sitting alone in a clearing,
With leaves swirling all around,
As rain and wind become the orchestra,
For the dreams that have no sound,
Each leaf becomes a memory,
Or the pieces of a heart,
That longs to hold love in it’s arms,
And fears the days apart.
The pieces of a dream swirl around,
Different colors for different moods,
At times a postcard picture,
For a heart that surely broods,
The rain’s not even noticed,
Even though I’m soaking wet,
The wind her breath upon me,
The dream not broken yet.
One by one the leaves break free,
The wind pushes them through the air,
As the whisper of the blowing wind,
Becomes a voice the heart can hear,
Do the raindrops that are falling,
Somehow water the broken dreams,
As the leaves clearly bring a tempo,
That becomes a colorful stream.
These leaves appear to be moments,
That with their colorful flight,
Bring dreams to the tortured mind,
A reflection of remembered light,
The vividness of the colors,
The intensity of what we feel,
And the length of their moments flying,
Makes these dreams ever more real.
And when those leaves touch the ground,
They are dreams that we still hold,
The leaves then become the earth,
Insulation against the cold,
At times the dreams seem broken,
Like a single leaf breaking free,
A colorful carpet accumulates,
All the dreams that we can see.
The rain washes away the tears,
As the wind whispers out a name,
And with new growth in the spring,
Fond dreams then do the same,
This heart believes that every leaf,
Is love that reaches out,
And through the wind and all the rain,
Leaves and love swirl all about.