The trees brush your window
The trees brush your window
The precipice steals your breath
The cloud calls you to fly with him.
What do you want to do now?
With your morning coffee cup in hand
You let your dreams glide among the trees
To the horizon and beyond.
What do you want to do now?
You know how the trees negotiate their growth
To agree with their surroundings
You know, as you had made them be that way.
What do you want to do now?
The sky
Of sweet air
Always comes to you.
What do you want to do now?
intuitiveflow 