I string up my hammock for two,
and lay in it alone,
listening to the trees whisper to one another.
How I long to hear their songs
and giggle to their stories
of centuries past and times forgotten.
The wind rocks me close to her *****
while the sun shines down on the children
hoping from flower to flower and between blades of grass.
But my eyes grow heavy, and I struggle to stay.
Then I hear them,
laughingly say,
rest now child;
all is well.