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Nature
February 22, 2015
I’m laying on the ground,
with the sky resting above,
not making a sound.
The wind whistles through the trees.
Singing about their love.
Amplified by the leaves.
Many are lost to this beautiful reality,
lost like a lone dove.
In search for vitality.
I see a lonesome creek,
flowing with a beauty I’m unworthy of.
Although that is something I seek.
We sit here on Earth,
like a baseball in a child’s glove,
afteral we owe this place to our birth.
© Kata P., Hopkinton, MA
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Okay so yeah, this poem was written in a weird rhyme scheme. I do not usually write poems like this, but I wanted to capture how I felt at the moment in time I was describing, and rhyming just seemed to help me do that. Enjoy.