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charming hill
September 16, 2010
I walk to the way of hill,
Fog’s are enveloped the hill,
I grope the hill by my eyes;
And the cooling winds enveloped my body.
Some unique smell struck through my nose
Thou, some stinky smell strucked,
Brook is flowing to the way of hill
By silently it reached the top of hill.
Monkey’s are climbing on the tree.
Some crawling animals
Sticked to the tree.
Plant’s are swinging by the tempest wind
Harvest fields are grown well,
Without poverty and religious diversity.
With a liberty and faithful.
Tribe people live well happily…
© JennS., Largo, FL
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