"Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."E.L. Doctorow

Monday 14 December 2009

Country Spring



Fresh, Crisp, falling leaves, gently brush my face
Beautiful flowers grow and bloom, livening up the place
The cool light friendly breeze whispers in my ear
Its calm, peaceful touch tells me spring is coming near

The warm, glowing sun tickles my toes with heat
Foreign plants, out of place, bloom amongst the wheat
I gasp at the gully wind as it sweeps across the valley
Breathing in the morning air as it soars along the alley

The clear indigo lake next door, stirs in spritely waves
The cattle lightly scratch the floor and make noises as they graze
The birds chirp whole heartedly and sing a happy tune
Our country’s spring is nearly here, it’s coming very soon

( I wrote this poem in october but forgot to post it until now)
Tigerlily

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