Sometimes I feel like the roots of a tree. Everybody else leaves, blows away, or gets cut down while I’m stuck on the ground waiting for them to return.
Maybe these seasons are the reason nothing ever stays the same.
Like the last snow in March when the smell of Spring has already come, I blanket the ground in white while they all stare at the sun waiting for Summer to return.
Maybe these seasons are the reason I can never find my place.
I dream about wedding bells and a ring on every hand that I see.
I reach out for someone to hold but there’s no one for me.
Maybe this will be the season everything finally stays.
Maybe you can be the reason that I’m finally safe.
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