Fear
When trees rustle,
And the air is still,
Will you be the one who will?
Who will hold his hand high
And let the Breeze hold it tight
Who will charge to the tree,
With valiant might.
Who will cower behind
The bushes so scared
Who will run away,
And never truly care.
So tell me,
Kind one.
Which one are you?
Will you pelt like the rain,
Or fall like the dew?
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