Leave me some paper and pens too.
Not some. A lot.
You could drop 'em on my island periodically.
I could write you letters.
Letters loaded with rhymy poems that may not necessarily make any sense.
Letters loaded with insights. Free of silliness? Not guaranteed.
I'll ask my fluffy feathery friends to drop them at your doorstep. A token of gratitude.
Don't forget to send me colours occasionally. Forget not. Colours.
In case you cannot send them to me, worry not.
I'll manage with the pails of rainbows that shall visit me now and again.
I'll paint landscapes. I'll paint dreamscapes.
I'll paint your portraits too and send them to you.
And if you like them, you can send me more colours so I can send you back more pictures.
Gotta give the rainbows a break so they can return in all glory after some well deserved rest.
You could send me a mandolin too.
I've never played it before but who says I couldn't play it later?
Then I could send you some music too.
Don't forget to open your window when the wind comes knocking.
You wouldn't want to lose the music in the rattle of the greedy glass.
You'll have to be quick before the wind gets impatient and carries it away with a smirky jerk.
If you still miss it, worry not. I will keep sending more and more.
There will always be some music that you could catch in spite of the mischievous playful wind.
Forget not to give it a hug so it can come back, embrace me and lift me up, high in the sky.
I think not that there is something else I would like you to send to me.
Food. I'll make friends with the fruit trees and strike a deal- 2 fruits apiece, a day.
I'll make friends with the other members of the wild and we could share our spoils.
Though I'll have to learn to gracefully decline meat or fish. I'll manage.
Clothes. I'll design me new dresses each evening. With flowers my deary trees gift to me. Each day.
Soon I shall have a log-full of colourful attire - yellow and violet, pink and red.
Though I'll have to renew the collection; learn to make do with leaves or not, in seasons amiss. I'll manage.
Stay. I'll make me a bed of grass or a bed of mud, compacted to fit my size.
I'll hold down canopies of nearby trees that will together make the roof, helping me sleep in rain and shine.
Though I'll have to shift places. Reasons aplenty. Flooding or drying, whitherance and decay. I'll manage.
All seems to be taken care of so far.
So while I while away in the wild,
Sending to you letters and pictures and music abound,
Forget not to send me back paper and pens, colours and strings.
If you get tired of sending or waiting, worry you not.
I shall invite you to my island.
You could disappear awhile and spend the time with me writing and painting, singing and living.
Then when you are refreshed and renewed, you can return and we can say our goodbyes.
And I'll remind you to forget not. To send me paper and pens, colours and strings.
And I'll send you back letters and pictures, music and songs.
So just drop me in the wild with A.Young music and I'll happily live my life away.