The Woods

The trees surround me,
In an arch of green foliage.
The rough bark of an oak,
Underneath my fingertips.
The leaves rustle,
As the wind gently blows.
The canopy of colors,
Above my head.
The warmth of the sun,
Upon my cheeks.
The cool moist grass,
On the soles of my bare feet.
The smell of blossoming flowers,
Fills the humid air.





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