The Land Of The Rising Sun Poem by Black LoneWolf

Sitting under my Japanese tree,
Like a Buddhist monk caged in meditation,
I sip my green herbal tea.

The breeze seduces my neck,
While a choir of birds is ever singing,
Serenity burst in my mind's bag.

Before sprawls an ocean,
A vibrant sea of gay dancing blossoms,
The aroma is therapeutic to any emotions.

Bees buzz like a classroom of first graders,
They hum a mellifluous tune indeed,
Which might lull even assiduous traders.

From a distance swims a soft flute note,
Like a trout in a river, it reaches my hungry ears.
Ah, even angels might die to pass by this road.

Sitting under my Japanese tree, by a stream,
Listening to a soothing choking gurgle...
Someone shakes, fishes me out of my serene dream.