The chair whispers when no one is around,
Telling tales of the clouds and the wind's gentle sound.
Brie, the cat listens, her ears poked high,
Dreaming of breezes that never say goodbye.
Walk softly under the trees,
For Chickadee sings above in the morning breeze.
A song so simple, yet timeless it flies,
Written by winds and written by sighs.
Light hides behind velvet curtains of night,
Show us the shadows, cast quickly, cast bright.
Silhouettes dance though they cannot be seen,
A rhythm of magic, of wisps and dreams keen.
The paths we walk are colored golden,
With footsteps red, gently folden.
Together we laugh, the world turns round,
Each song a story, each sight a sound.