Among the Grass

A hand traces through tufts of grass,

As birds sing up above.

Innocence stills upon a hill,

Illuminated by the clouds.

He waits for thoughts to climb on high,

As he looks up towards the sky.

His mind is waiting for the light,

As only one guiltless can.

And smiles does he looking down to see,

A bee upon a flower.

-M.E. InkOwl

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2 thoughts on “Among the Grass

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