This is the response cadence to a poem written by a friend.
Trees:
carry the breeze that breathes life into me,
foliage falls softly as you tickle and tease,
sun becomes lofty, soon drops to its knees
ready to rest for the eve-ning
Moon: ready the night eye
to ascend through the sky
and bathe me in cool blue
giving mind the glue
to sleep on through this lack of light
(ah what reprieve from great respite)
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