I waited for this to come
But I panicked fierce like the squall outside
And no song of mine is like the breath
Of night moving over your lungs
And do you start to see the way I blend into the trees?
Sunlight feels to me stale, these days, in all I see.
My father once told me, "Tread lightly outside, lest the hungry ones should hear."
I did as he asked, til I heard the breeze in the trees change with the coming years.
Now I like the crunch of the leaves underneath my feet;
Now I might find my father in the song of those leaves.
