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As the trees grow older,

And the leaves commence their descent,

The willow weeps onto my shoulder,

I can’t share its griefs, whilst my heart fills with content.


Sunlight peeks at me, through the leaves now doomed,

A sight that sneaks heavenly, through the trees un-groomed.

My breath rises in front of me,

And not from a cigarette’s work,

But escaping my mouth seductively,

Part of my soul imprinted on the earth.


In my grassy hide,

I am a voyeur of nature’s play,

And all I can do is sigh,

And hope that someone looks at me this way.


Shades of rust,

winds that gust,

Scenes that provoke lust,

Making my mind trust,

This drug of tranquility that’s just.


But now the clock chimes like a drone,

Enough of the rhymes, I must return home.

I climb out from my grassy throne,

Back to real life do my senses now hone.


But just as I get to the gate and say my goodbyes,

To this glorious playground  that’s for my eyes,

Before I make my way, I squint from the sun ray,

Look to the chilling blue skies and say;

“If you’re up there, cheers, you’ve made my day.”

Created: Mar 22, 2012

Tags: independent poetry, poems, poem

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