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What could be more wonderful Than the place where I walk sometimes? Swaying like trees in rain . . . Swaying like trees in sunshine When breezes stir nothing but happiness . . . What could be more lovely? I walk in the Field of Wonder Where colors come to be; I stare at the sky . . . I feel myself lifting on the wind As the swallows lift and blow upward . . . I see colors fade out, they die away . . . I blow across a cloud . . . I am lifted . . . How can I change again into a little girl When wings are in my feeling of gladness? This is strange to know On a summer day at noon, This is a wild new joy When summer is over. The scarlet of three maple trees Will guide me home, Oh mother my dear! Fear nothing: I will come home Before snow falls! |