Whispering wind,

Running through the trees,

Sweeping you off your feet.

Wistful trees,

O how you sway,

As your leaves fall,

you grow.

Your roots go down for ages,

You are planted there, 

In the moist, soft ground.

You provide shelter and shade,

To all those you need it, 

Your flowers create a lavender earth,

It creates a perfect, purple carpet.