Thursday, 14 June 2012

Wondering Bank

Whispering forests
Golden moon
Sun gone in
It is night time to soon

As he lay down on damp ground
Little was moving
Less was the sound
Only the water that flowed in front of his eyes

As bright horizons light
Bounced the moon sky night
His lamp gave his pages warmth
His comfort of words

As the branches that fell down low
Silence began to run his taughts of slow
He wanted to play his music his own way
As the night was his beautiful bay

Taken his tin whistle from his pocket
He poured out tunes
Like a space rocket
The sound raced off into the night

Relaxing all of nature in its pathway
When suddenly he heard a whistle coming his way
This must be an echo coming from me
If not then what can it be

As a shadow took leave of the branches way
The dark lonely figure
Had giving him away
He looked around to see

Who it could be
It was only a lonely camper man
Who had lost his way
I live by here

By day and by night
This is my wonderful camping sight
I call it home
As I have no where else
It shelters me and keeps me safe
The bark is my delve

Fish is my food
As is the fruit
As he opens up a napkin
Blackberries they do sooth

The thirst that I feel
My throat it is quite dry
I must not eat them all
For he would surely wonder why

I have seen so many things
Pass by me on this hill
I have seen the hunts men gather
I have seen life stand still

Living this way
Teaches you so much
As I decide to continue with my tune
He throws out a verse

Singing along
Giving it his all
He is a man of the land
He has surely seen it all

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