I have a friend on the wide, wide bree
His song is the song that is part of me,
A little wren with a throat of gold
And tales that the trees themselves have told.
I have a friend on the vast, vast sea
His life is the life only known to me,
A broad, blue wave with bright hands of blue
And secrets of foam that the seashell knew.
I have a friend in the soft, soft trees
His words are the words that devolve to me
A sweet, warm beam of the purest sun,
A place and a presence where dark does run.
The leaves still fall softly, but nobody knows
I am part of the summer and part of the snows
A portion of birds and a sliver of sea,
And a whisper of wind passing over the bree.