Looking past the trees,
Up at the sky,
Around the clouds,
How far is high,
Then the rain begins to fall,
Like tear drops, from our eyes.
The wind starts blowing,
Chasing the clouds away,
As the sun begins to shine,
To brighten up the day,
A rainbow begins to appear, like magic,
Then begins to fade.
This life is not as easy,
As home on the range,
Just like the weather,
We will always see change,
Often without notice,
Our surroundings will rearrange.
Tom Maxwell copyright
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem