Poezja

Within the urge, continues to build on;
Separate from a place, I truely belong;
Away from the trees, streams and animals;
I wish to hide from, the husle and busle;
I wish to hide from, the turns and tusles;
Tired of running, in this rampart rat race;

The blaze of fire, over the velvet black;
Chirping sounds of song birds, reach my rucksack;
The scents of pollenation, treat my senses;
In my minds eye, back to the bush I go;
Where there's no power, from connections or dough;
It is programmed into my D.N.A;

Darn! Back to the smokey, noisy, city;
Just a single person, so itty-bitty;
Long to live in the wild, with the serenity;
Wish to sleep, with the beauty of nature;
With the stars, butterflys, and all creatures;
Where I belong, feeling wholy content;