Friday, March 26, 2010

The Hill

The tall grass

brushed by my leg.

A slight breeze whispered

by me, Lightly tossing my mess

of curly brown hair. Eyes blinded

by the bright sun, skin warmed by its wrath.

Colorful flowers of blue and yellow and pink Sway on

their stems. Smells of wildflowers, Of lavender, daisies and rose,

Fill the soft air. I never want to leave this place, I think I’ll stay here forever.

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