|
I sit here in this peaceful place.
The wind rustles through the trees
And the aspen leaves
Fall as autumn rain.
They flutter down like butterflies
And land upon the river, where they float
And tumble between the rocks, like little boats
That are going home again.
And all around are stones carved with your
songs,
And people wandering and reading,
Sometimes just sitting and dreaming
On this special day.
Two playful dogs, one black one gold,
Jump in the river and frolic and bound.
While, from across the the water, I hear the
sound
Of children at play.
In the centre a blue spruce stands,
A dark, strong contrast to the shimmering
aspen leaves,
And the little harebells beneath, dancing
in the breeze
To the music of the stream.
And, as I watch them dance,
I hear the sound of a guitar.
A soft voice sings 'The Gift You Are'
Or is it just a dream?
There is peace in this sanctuary
Where, up above, sometimes eagles fly
In a cloudless sky
Of mountain blue.
And, when life's troubles come again,
I'll think of this love filled place,
And I know the memory of here
Will see me through.
I leave a pink specked, yellow rose
Among the other flowers.
I could stay here for hours,
But I must on my way,
So, as the sun sets behind the hills,
And the moon comes up a silver gleam,
I pick an aspen leaf and a pebble from the
stream
And go on my way.
|
