A Collection of Poems

Untitled Poem 17

I look out the window to the surrounding world,

Putting on my coat I wonder if the wolves will cry,

I walk down the stairs to the grassy abbess below,

Walking through the pines I feel its needles piercing me,

Over the hills, I see the waterfall pouring into the river,

Mountainous cliffs surround the prairie valley,

Wheat sways in the breeze of the wind like a musical bouquet,

I lie in the grass to stare at the heavens above,

So many memories are held up there.