Look closely, dear at the shapes of the hills
Listen carefully to the voice of the streams
For if you can hear a soft musical sound
It is Mother Nature whispering young children dreams
Her head rests on those purples mountains
The silvery waterfall torrents are her hair
If you look closely where the sunlight falls
You'll see that it tans her skin so fair
Where she breathes sprout flower buds
She speaks a language of clouds to the sky
So kneel down at night and ask her for good dreams
Where you can grow wings, spread them, and fly
Author notes
http://media.photobucket.com/image/nature/chavender/avatar/People/nature.jpg?o=35
t i n s e l p o o l
A contest entry
- My first Contest by TecumsehRoz.
700 points, ended November 6, 85 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please comment.
Comments
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This line was a bit awkward " Where she breathes sprout flower buds" , but it was still a fairly good poem.
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Why need skin fair be thought as Nature's gift
to nature, something seems adrift
when light confused with right upon the page
denies chromatic contrasts some could guage ...
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