The blue Scottish winds,
Breeze the turquoise thymes,
Crimson cherries hanging high,
Near the woods of mine.
Like high as the birds fly,
Touching the clear sky,
All bloom and gloom,
Bewitching the flowers gloom,
But beauty lies high above,
Where there is blue with hue,
Not knowing till where it exist.
At night, the sparkling rocks,
Brightens the glittery skies,
This is what beauty is all about,
As the high top sky,
Stretches all around.
~Aleene
