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