I chased her, deeper and deeper into the spring woods, and now i am lost.

Sometimes she comes of her own will and perches on my outstretched hand.

I don’t chase her anymore. I lie here in the arms of the foliage, I’ve built a tiny nest for myself which i call home.

Sometimes she brings a flower for me unasked.

I am happy, i am content, but sometimes she makes my life beautiful.

 

 

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