TREE

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Tree

I will come back as a tree
If the choice is up to me
The type or kind I do not care
Reaching up into the air
To know the seasons
All of them
To change
With nature
Bow and blow
To let the universe create my flow
To hold a bird inside my hand
To let the insect crawl and stand
To drop my leaves when they are old
And hold on tight when it is cold
To slowly push a bud of leaf
When spring arrives
And sun shines deep
To sit outside all day and night
Observing all
In quiet sight
To grow both up
To grow both down
My roots below
Into the ground
Yes I will come back as a tree
If the choice is up to me

Kat

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