When leaves leave loving Mother tree,
how wistful sad that tree must be;
Like when a child is going away,
unseen, unheard until one day,
when then again he’ll be come around,
to enamour all with his sweet sound
of constant talk, angelic laughter,
that lingers on for ever after.
Leaves they fall down to the ground,
to meet the earth where they are found
by little birds who line a nest
in Mother tree, wherein they rest.
Returned to her, for evermore,
nestling within her own heartstore.
And so it is, I do believe…
To love and live, we have to leave.