Calm and quiet
With a gentle breeze in my hair
Far away drifts the smell of pine
Carried in the air.
The swallow chirps
A duck quacks
The cool water laps the shore
Silent as my thoughts drift
Through the mist forever more.
My toes go numb as I sit on the bank
The clouds cover the sun
The mountain peaks
The wildflowers creep
Painting the world as one.
The wind whistles in my ear
As a Raven takes its wing
The murmuring lake, ne'er does she sleep
Ever drawn to new awakenings.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poems
PoetryI don't know yet exactly what I'm meant to do. Whether I'm meant to write novels or poems, or whether I'm supposed to draw and tell stories through pictures. Sometimes I think maybe it's both. Maybe I'm supposed to teach History to young children. A...
