The arms of the wooden giant,
Spins in the kisses of the breeze,
Hypnotizing the sleeping valley,
Caressing my soul, I breathe.
I want to soar above this valley,
And tickle each bud awake,
Laughing when the sun blushes,
As I somersault down his face.
Don’t you love it when flowers open,
And babies take their first steps?
Don’t you love it when winters end,
And ice turns to mud, what a mess!
If I had my way, valleys would never die,
Everything would remain green,
If I had my way, trees would never cry,
Song birds would always sing.
Copyright © Joplin Sell | Year Posted 2005
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