She circles the clouds
in an attempt to find a comfortable bed
and she flits around
with a halo of silver upon her raven hair.
She wanders alone
touched but never quite kept or held
by any other.
It's easier for her this way
rather than care and stay.

     So she wanders her path
     and doesn't care where she treads.
     She's never there long enough
     to ever care.
     She imagines herself
     a leaf that's tossed with every breeze.

He beheld her from a distance
and thought to make her his.
She was wild and she was untamed
-would be just another rose in his garden-
and that's what made her beautiful in his eyes.
He tried and tried to catch her,
but like the leaf that flies too high,
she flew out of his reach.

     So she wanders her path 
     and doesn't care where she treads.
     She's never there long enough 
     to ever care.
     She imagines herself
     a leaf that's tossed with every breeze.

She blew in one day
with the northern winds
and they all admired her lovely grace
but feared her wild ways.
So she shrugged her shoulders
and shook it off
a fast and fleeting thought
that flattered and flattened in her head
as she flew out of sight.
 
     And she wanders her path
     and doesn't care where she treads.
     She's never there long enough
     to ever care.
     She imagines herself 
     a leaf that's tossed with every breeze.