A silent watcher,
Sits quiet and still,
Only a gentle breeze ruffles her hair,
But there's something else watching,
Someone else seeing,
That she doesn't know is there,
The trees are her witness,
And the leaves sing the song,
The song that has never been heard,
Except for the ones listening,
Except for the ones waiting,
But they would never speak of the words,
The rythmic dance of the elms,
Beats through the forest airs,
Making sounds of the forest awaken,
And the rythm they all share,
The girl sits there alone,
Listening to the silent singing,
Never to speak the words,
But for this land always to be longing.