I thought you'd find me over there,
when I was taken by the air,
flung against the earth awake,
where rocks engrave the silver lake.
Mother hear me I am nigh
and long to hear a lullaby.
Sing to me so I can dream
of dragons, knights, and soft ice cream.
Then bury me where I may rest
for here I am no longer guest
but ghost who wanders futilely
looking for my apple tree.
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