The little girl swayed
As the wind took her
Along the path where she laid
Her head down and sang
A little song for a little girl.

“The flowers are so pretty”, she sang.
The wind led the flowers
Where the birds’ song rang
Their peddles fell as the birds chirped
A pretty song for pretty flowers.

“The grass is so green”, they sang.
The wind guided the birds
Where the trees were high
The trees watch as the birds fly
And sang a song for flying angels.

“The birds sing well”, they sang.
The wind blew the trees
Their leaves flew with the birds
To guide down the path of song
The trees stayed, for their song was made.

While no path is defined,
The wind carries the songs
Along the path that one can find.