Emerald hills and enchanted forests,
of the lushest greens,
visions only seen in dreams.
A never ending chorus,
a symphony of nature’s calls.
Rushing rivers and waterfalls,
the woods echo with the sounds of stirring creatures.
Here they have no fear,
a place for asylum seekers.
Most pleasing to the eye and ear.
a menagerie, beneath a wooded canopy,
a wilderness tapestry, woven richly.
Was there I met a girl, a minstrel and a muse,
she told me she could sing away my blues,
she assured me I’d be cured.
I took her for her word,
her music, her poetry, was the loveliest I’d heard.
Was songs of olden, and golden times,
there must have been magic in her rhymes.
Accompanied by harp and flute,
taken on a dream like stroll;
a lullaby for the soul.
She offered me a taste of her fruit,
then vanished as quick as she came;
a spirit to free to keep or tame.