All in the air, whimsical mist
Hanging on tree tops, sunshine kissed
Whipping leaves and tresses of hair
Whimsical mist, all in the air
Something magic travelling here
Nothing wicked, nothing to fear
Erasing memories tragic
Travelling here, something magic
It can’t be bought with pounds and pence
Not tangible just felt by sense
A sensation we all have sought
With pounds and pence, it can’t be bought
Choices made on mystical whims
Not logic nor faith and sung hymns
Branches, bodies and minds are swayed
On mystical whims, choices made
- - - Hat Bueckert
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