Feel the cover with my hand,Smooth, cold, odorless.Feel the page with my hand,Rough and smell of fibers. Urgent message, touching story,Each page reveals swiftly.Seeing as though living,When another image intervenes. Buried in the pages, closed eyes,Crackling of the old tree reverbs.Day, night, day, night,Damp forest you can hear. Day, night, day, night,From the smallest seedling.Doe strains her ears,Wolf sees its opportunity. Day, night, day, night,First direct sunlight getting.Bear looking for honey,Sparrow building nest. Day, night, day, night,Huge crack opens through.Sparrow laying last egg,Falling branches, roots drying. Old forest covered in lichen,Cracking wood echoes.Amber fragrance still lingers,I see the story again.

Goes to the sound of Amelie,Piano rhyming while striding.Scent of freshly baked croissant,Sun shining from balcony flowers. Hazel hair smiles at everyone,Catching every word.Nudges you under the rib,Finds out your deepest secret. Hazel hair skips down the road,Greets kid, granny and Johnny.Bright dress pretentious in the wind,Turns shadows to bright green. Hazel hair laughs at English joke,Pretends to be grumpy old guy.Swings to the tune of Amelie,Dances with a French dress. Hazel hair draws from a cigarette,Side-look and mischievous smile.Meaningful, funny, silly conversation,Twists and chews her hair. Hazel hair gazes into darkness,Wearing blue dress.I want to gladden her,But I do...