The Forest

The city’s drone, the constant chatter,
emphasising what just doesn’t matter.
The world of wonder – wonder why
I simply don’t break down and cry?
But then the forest sets me free;
that’s the place my heart needs to be.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
This entry was posted in Green Poetry, Life, nature, Spirit. Bookmark the permalink.

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