You\'ll find her in the woods where they used to play.
Doesn\'t matter the season, the year, or the day.
She spends her time softly singing while gathering flowers; or quietly sitting and listening, high up in the trees for hours.
Some folks say, she\'s lost her mind.
Others are much more kind.
It\'s just make believe,
a way for her to grieve.
In my younger years, I heard the words to her song.
I\'ve climbed high up in the trees, tagging along.
And I too have heard the laughter of a child, carried on the breeze.
And I felt the child run past me, in the rustling of the leaves.
It\'s just make believe,
a way for her to grieve.