Unititled - Tori Aynsley (H)

Rushing down the river gleams,

I hear the sound of swirling trees,

A rustle from the hedge beside

Along the river but deep and kind.

The smooth, wet rocks beside the river,

The gleaming, golden sun

Shining. The river speaks of gurgles and gulps.

Suddenly, the trees begin to speak

With swirling and whispering that it's time to go.

The sun has gone,

The clouds replaced.

I must go,

It's time to fly away.