How long shall i let this bide
each day peeling at me
the sunshine cracks through the trees
but the fog is always sure to roll in
i long for branches to be trimmed away
but who am i to modify what God’s made
it is true forest fires are necessary
but do i want that to be me
perhaps i could just sit upon a mountain top
but is loneliness really superior
and the valley is already making me feel low
I’ve swam all the depths of the ocean
it is where i hide
an open field where wildflowers are
the only place to preside
a trickling stream, that’s not too deep
in the sweet wind, i will confide
no need to peer around the bend
everything is here
the whispers of the not too tall grass
tell me stories
and the soil is never to rocky
a rabbit or two and maybe a deer
what more could i ask for
what more could i fear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem