There is a place that has hills that are mountains
Trees cry out from all sides
It is a relic land carved by water and made by an ocean
The stone stands still to be changed into a spire
Touch the stone and you shall know the past
A thousand springs flow down hills in true flight
The rivers, the water, the color of my dreams
It is a place of green peace where lonely minds can crave its days
The sun may hit the buttercup and lady slipper just right
You can be brought to face the true sun
A coyote howls in the night, a beaver splashes by your bed
It is beauty, it is thus, it makes a part of you.
No comments:
Post a Comment