A winding pathway calling come,
beneath the trees.
Looks much less welcoming for some
you cannot please.
My fortress tall, it does enclose.
That I may rest in sweet repose.
The dancing sun peeks through the leaves,
beneath the trees.
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The care's of life I'm set free from
such sweet reprieves.
The songbirds sing, and bees they humm,
on gentle breeze.
I come upon a pink wild rose.
Lift its soft petals to my nose.
My place of refuge and of ease,
beneath the trees.
c.d.m.2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem