yldann

Where will we live when the wood is gone?
Where will our hearts reside?
Nothing to hang our hats upon,
No river to sit beside.

Between the dwellings were many trees
Between the trees, were creatures living
But now they're gone,
Yet the land goes on
Broken breath, no more life giving

People sicken, some may die
And somehow never fathom why
a heart displaced
from a land defaced
May find it difficult to fly...