Sapling_20176

Hazel eyes and 
bright blue skies
Trees whispering softly in the air
A meadow green
A bounding hare
Flowers swaying
Horses baying
Roses red and
Mother Earth laying
Down to sleep for
Winter is paying 

There are several kinds of smoke,
Some veil us from going about our daily routines:
The smoke of a
Cigarette
Stubbed against a piece of furniture.
The smoke of a forest fire 
Which took the innocent lives

She sits down, her small, tight box in hand. The girl, clearly a young child, opens the black box, and reveals the pieces and parts of a flute.

These feet have tread a path
Up a mountain and down a hill
These feet have tread a path
Through the meadow where birds once did trill
These feet have tread a path 
By a sweet stream, a landscape truly pleasant to walk by

On many a Sunday afternoon                                       Then mother and dad

You ask what my name means-
I’ll tell you the truth. 
But when I tell you 
Promise to stand up- 
And get out of this booth.
Out of this world, (literally) 
A star shines bright (figuratively)