by Keith D Allison

The flow of water
Moving gently over the rocks
The whispering of the pine
As a breeze touches the morning light

Upon the crest the snow sparkles
In the July sun
As the eyes look out upon
The flowers in the valley, grass

The serenity in the breath, of the new day
Yet I long for her hand
As the waters
Endlessly move to the sea


Posted on 07/02/2006
Copyright © 2024 Keith D Allison

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 07/07/06 at 12:38 AM

Natural, sweeping and intimate. I like this very much, Keith. Nice write.

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