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: birds,nature
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8/28/2026 6:51:36 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
