The story will start again.

It was the day.
We screamed.
Trees are grassy and shaded.
”Heyy, we can be branches, we're going“
Trees applauded with leaves. A few leaves came after us. He could not catch.
Handful of scattered soil.
God willing.
We both said water, the soil was moist.
He was above us in the sun.
We were happy.
A joy took us and our voices cried into the sky.
Our heart does not hold our enthusiasm, we hear our voice!
The sun opened its warm arms. The clouds washed us with tears.
Now was the time. They parted.
Put a bunch of bunches. We gave you a branch.
We grew up, spit head. Our heads can be full.
Winds; Coming out of the sea, fluctuating. Our voice was folk songs.
We would sing with pride; We were yellow, now stubborn gold. This is what we do. Time to say goodbye, said Time.
They came with machines;
They separated us from our roots. Naked.
They left a few people and took most of us.
We were the guards of our seed.
They passed the machines.
We are unfair. We got the dough when they were leavened. We ate bread for cooking.
This trip will be neither the first nor the child.
Our friends will be scattered again when we arrive.
This never ending story will start again.