Her garments flow like moss on the cypress 
As she moves across the stage 
Her body spins in rise like the towering pine 
The graceful figure of a bygone age 

With a gentle fall like leaves from the oak 
She lies in bundle on the floor 
Then awakening like the spring to azaleas 
She reaches out for something more 

She lends a smile like magnolia blossoms 
As she tiptoes to center stage 
Then offers her bow like the weeping willow 
With a final turn of history's page