The Fleeting Love of Wind and Leaves:
The naive wish of leaves still green
Is heard by the wind near by.
Who comes on sweeping over
To seduce them in a lie.
But the Father's arms (for now) hold strong
And convince them not to go.
The love for him trumps the guile wind,
Of this too well I know.
But the cunning wind does not give in
And comes suiting before the snow.
He steals them for a brief "romance"
To swirl on his waltzing blow.
Then he leaves them in the cold
When he decides the dance is done.
Maliciously lays them at the feet
Of the Father, who's left not one.