Walking through the grass
In the morning
Dew still gleaming on the blades
Sounds of feet on the forest floor
The stream gurgling softly
If only I could stay here
Like it were a summer day
Under the trees
Where everything is alive.
November 2024
November 2024 | Vol. 132 #3 | Published Monthly
Walking through the grass
In the morning
Dew still gleaming on the blades
Sounds of feet on the forest floor
The stream gurgling softly
If only I could stay here
Like it were a summer day
Under the trees
Where everything is alive.