The birds are flying south,
Because the leaves are dying,
Leaving a color of rainbow,
That runs throughout the hills.
The leaves are dying,
Falling prey to the wind,
That runs throughout the hills,
Flying and soaring high in the sky.
Falling prey to the wind,
His thoughts turned to the birds,
Flying and soaring high in the sky.
Wishing to join those birds in those moments of freedom.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Don't we all wish that at times?
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