Over the ridge, round the bend.
Through the weeds and palm trees,
lies the trail that never seems to end.

There you’ll see the stones,
for hobbling and hopping over the creek.
But be careful, many tend to turnover
On those who wish to seek.

Now comes the scent.
Exotic and enthralling.
Whisping through the air aimlessly.
Like the dandelion seeds that have gone and went.

Then there’s the waterfall.
Mystic, wonderful and serene.
My oasis, my sanctum, my serenity