The Leaves
When I can take some time to pause
And gaze up at a tree,
I think of little things
my mother 'd say to me.
She'd say that on a windy day,
when she would watch the leaves,
It seemed as though a story they'd tell,
a-nodding in the breeze.
You get a dreamy feeling
on a lazy summer day.
Above you there's the blue, blue sky,
A billowy cloud goes drifting by
And sometimes as I sit here too
I can see it's really true,
The twisting, twirling leaves do
tell an endless tale to you.
by Gertrude Erika Berglund