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Inside my head there is a path.

On that path there are tracks.

Follow those tracks and you

will come to a break in the trees.

Once out of the woods,

You will smell the ocean.



On the cliff side there is a tree.

A gift from a friend.

A peach tree, it's blossoming

leaves cascading down with

the wind seemingly forever.

And under it, I sit.



On my right, sits Griever.

My white lion, whose ashen

mane I run my fingers through.

Who sleeps soundly as I

rest.

And as I listen to the wind...



...I hear it. The lullaby.

A light humming as if from the

wind itself to put me at ease.

I listen to it and watch

Griever sleep and smile.

I am blessed to have such a place.



Inside my head there is a path.

On that path there are tracks.

Follow those tracks and you

will come to a break in the trees.

Once out of the woods,

You will smell the ocean.



On the cliff side there is a tree.

A gift from a friend.

A peach tree, it's blossoming

leaves cascading down with

the wind seemingly forever.

And under it, I sit....



...and rest.

COMMENTS

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NicolettaScarletti
02:14 Jun 22 2008

I adore this poem, very well written. I flows nicely.

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