The wind blows, rustling the leaves
Among trees I hear a voice calls me.
The moon is full and bright.
It cast shadows on walls!
Wall of my darkened, somber thought;
Old dreams, echoes of past, what I’ve sought.
They all here to haunt me of the past.
The early morning sun, the promise that isn’t last!
There is no brighter day, as sun rises in East.
Darkness is chaste away, I see a mist,
Memories become distant as desire,
Like an echo of past, they set me in fire!
A soft, gentle voice, I hear calling me.
Call my name when I am with my tree.
Looking at leaves that rustles with breeze,
Surround me to lean in the arm of ease.
Darkness disappears from night,
And takes my fright out of this sight!