The embers are still warm
Branches of dead oak speaks
Rush of blood coarse down the veins
So forth, proclaims, we are alive
Seas whispers of grand silence
Blissful moarning of a dead memory
Skies paint of endless hue
Grass fiddle smoothly down the air
Rain drops splash the pebbles
Water flows down a gentle line
Trees stand firm and strengthen
Roots seek deeper down
The wind is not silent and dandy
Yet peaceful and soothing
Flying gently up the breeze
Filling of air, soothing and sappy
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