Camp

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  • Love

    Camp

    the gravel moves beneath my feet,
    the sound of the trees,
    the whispers of the babaling brook.
    Serenity.
    why does my heart always come back here?
    the squeak of the floor,
    the presence of years past,
    memories.
    My cares are lifted to the highest mountian top,
    the highest tree,
    the highest cloud.
    my heart and soul is free here,
    if only for a little while.


    camp shaver

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    ndg commented on Camp

    03-30-2009

    This invoked feelings of peace

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    xxlivixxbooger’s Poems (13)

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