This strange land
Where the breeze kisses my skin
And runs its cool fingers
Through my hair.
Where the long grass ripples
Against the wind
Like the gentle waves of a sea.
This strange land
Where the trees stand tall and mighty
With arms reaching over the gravel path
As if attempting to grab me.
Where the pines huddle closely together
Whispering amongst each other
In a language I do not understand.
This strange land
Where the sweet voices of birds
Paint the wind
With vivacious tunes
Where a heartbeat is heard
From within the earth
Vigorous, spirited
And alive.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond the Words
Poetry"A poem begins with a lump in the throat." (Robert Frost) Collection of poems, Volume One (2012-2013) © Copyright by Dahlia Pimentel. All rights reserved.
