Up there,
in the lakes
where states of mind are refined
and all it takes is some
concentration,
relaxation and the definition
of peace is defined.

Years have passed since I sat by the mere or
Coniston water,
thought I ought to go back and see
what it all meant to me.

Up there in the lakes where the tourists take
photographs, where
the valleys echo with laughs and
Wordsworth spins in a grave,
I save my sanity on the hills, by a tarn,
where no harm can come to me
and peace is mine