Walking through the forest, I hear it:
The rustling of the leaves in the light summer's breeze,
The whistling of the wind through the saplings,
The chirping of the birds, as they sing their cheery song in the green canopies above,
The crunching of the twigs underneath my feet as I walk along a hidden path,
The murmuring of the brook as it races along the riverbed,
The soft humming of the bees as they speed from flower to flower,
The deep rumbling of the frogs relaxing in the clear blue waters.
All of these sounds I hear in the hidden beauty of the forest,
And I think that I have finally found my paradise
YOU ARE READING
Where the Ink Runs Dry
ŞiirJust a collection of poems I have written. I won't stop writing until the ink runs dry. © Copyright of crazyhoran_93 All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the express prior written permissi...
