Alpine valley,
Flowered fields,
Pine carpeted slopes reflected in the lake.
Rain falling,
Clouds billowing past,
The yaks don't mind,
And neither do I.
Even the willows say
We needn't weep,
Why drape when we can reach up
And touch the sky?
When living in the clouds,
We never cry.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hey stalkers - if you don't have a blogspot/google account, please leave your name so I can get back to you, or just email me.