The Wild Poem by Charlie Youdonneedtaknow
The Wild
The wind brushes through the trees above.
The birds chirp their pure soft song.
My thoughts sail the lake as a dove,
the day is quiet and pleasantly long.
The sun is warm and the breeze feels cool.
My hands smell of earth and soot and wood,
to leave this place I was a fool.
Heres to the worlds last good.
Friday, May 2, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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4/3/2026 2:39:17 PM # 1.0.0
