I could stay lost in some other country,
where nobody could find me.
I could stay lost in the forests of time,
listening as acorns dropped
from trees with the leaves during fall.
I would listen quietly to the birds singing.
They would wonder why I invaded their privacy.
I could drift like the snow,
out of control, piling up
finally melting into a
stream of water,
blending in with the fish,
during the journey of life.