The Place Where There are Still Deer

It was a cool Saturday afternoon when I decided to go,
I sat there tired of a constant ebb and flow,
So I got on my bike and I rode far away,
Hoping I'd make it by the end of the day.

I turned down a dirt road I'd pondered before,
I didn't know what, or where but I had to explore,
It turned into a trail and I carried on without fear,
I knew I'd soon find it,
                                     The place where there are still Deer.

I walked along the rocky route,
Then the road soon began to lessen its stout,
And though I passed the boisterous colors of Bluebonnets and Greenthread,
Not a word, save the winds soft whisper was said.

The road began to curve as it crossed with a wire fence line,
I had only walked a bit when I met her eyes,
She stood there filled with the foreignness of a great frontier,
I knew then I’d found it,
                                       The place where there are still Deer.

She hesitated for a moment then leaped on her way,
But there, in that moment I realized the true meaning of that day,
And though I know it may sound rather dumb,
I feel like I went off in search of something greater than the person I'd become.


I am a believer in the beauty of silence,

Just the feeling I got from her is something so timeless,


We get so caught up in the "here" and the "now",
That we often forget how life is so preciously allowed,
We forget to see the beauty in the simplest things,
In nature, in smiles, or the sound of a bell when it rings.

I turned just in time to see her leap over a hill,
I stood just as her, with a feeling, I still feel,
Never once, did the world's essence feel so wonderfully clear.
I explored for a while then left with a newfound cheer.

And all this, all this, did I remember right here,
Here in the place,
                             The place where there are still Deer.'


This poem is about: 
Our world


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