Yet another poem draft :\
The stairs look like they've been there forever,
cracked and gray stone winding through the trees
that have sprouted in the large rock.
I feel that I have disturbed something in the shade,
That my scraped knees and ill fitting shorts do not belong
and will never belong in the shadows of rocks and trees
With the whispers of the river and the lake
Softly telling me that this quiet beauty
Is for those I cannot see.
cracked and gray stone winding through the trees
that have sprouted in the large rock.
I feel that I have disturbed something in the shade,
That my scraped knees and ill fitting shorts do not belong
and will never belong in the shadows of rocks and trees
With the whispers of the river and the lake
Softly telling me that this quiet beauty
Is for those I cannot see.