After Anne

Tue, 02/04/2020 - 13:44 -- amenp

Wind blows by

Rustling the grass at my feet,

Whispering its secrets just barely too quiet to hear

 

A sound like laughter passes me by

As leaves chase each other through my hair

Dancing to the music of the earth

 

A little brook rushes past,

Laughing at a joke

I hope to one day be told what it is

 

This world of ours has some kind of magic

Refreshing, haunting, unceasing,

Breathing life into everything that inhabits it.

It’s a special kind of beauty,

One that inspires me day after day.

 

It is a lovely dear old world,

And I am very glad to be alive in it.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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