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


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741