In The Mountains
The only sounds I hear,
a scampering lizard, an owl, a goat.
Every step is clear.....
my breath...
in my ear.
This mountain is cut by the rain,
paths made for water to drain.
Holes that house God's perfect pets.
Different colors of the years being wet.
From atop a valley so green,
cleansing wind for a soul to glean.
No more sadness,
just gifts I forgot to take.
Washing my sorrow.....
nothing fake.
Thank you for the beauty,
thank you for the proof....
I have found
on this mountain..
truth!
poem by JAR Poet
Added by Poetry Lover
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