In times on ones knees
There is no beauty quite like trees
As they embrace the breeze
With a natural affinity to please
With a magical grace
There is no need for haste
As time begins to cease
Im filled with a gentile ease
Silence in the air
Not a single care anywhere near
A serene feeling of bliss
That I am unable to miss
As i inhale the sent of pine
A aroma finer than that of any wine
A though slips into my mind
Since when is life this kind
Having nature all to my self
I shall never need any thing else
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
In times on ones knees
There is no beauty quite like trees
As they embrace the breeze
With a natural affinity to please
With a magical grace
There is no need for haste
As time begins to cease
Im filled with a gentile ease
Silence in the air
Not a single care anywhere near
A serene feeling of bliss
That I am unable to miss
As i inhale the sent of pine
A aroma finer than that of any wine
A though slips into my mind
Since when is life this kind
Having nature all to my self
I shall never need any thing else