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you beckon to me once again.
I see you dancing, singing,
floating freely
in the freshening breeze
that brings the cool change
and releases
the angry, penetrating heat.
What words
are you whispering
to each other?
to me?
What messages
do you bring?
You beckon me
into a magical wood,
a faraway place
of laughing children's voices,
joyfully pealing
through dense trees,
like giggling bells
ringing out a nursery rhyme.
A wood celebrating life, love
magical festivities.
Lights, colour,
merriment,
dance against a backdrop
of endless rainbow possibilities.
I want to follow the hopeful tunes
of the dancing leaves,
and loose myself
in the fantasy
of an enchanted childhood,
imagination,
excitement
and the promise of a world
offering safety
and warm contentment.
I know you well,
whispering trees.
When I was a tearful,
insecure babe,
left alone my a mother
under your boughs,
you soothed me
and comforted me,
sang to me,
and danced for me.
You waved your magic fingers,
in front of my infant eyes
and enveloped me
with your gnarly arms,
until sleep crept up on me
and carried me off
into a temporary land of peace.
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