F R E E D O M

F R E E D O M

I'm at a place, near a lake,
No sound,
But the buzz of bees,
And birds chirping in many trees.
I drift into a trance,
Outta sight and outta mind
Where colors whir,
And butterflies dance,
No sight,
But colors of natures canvas,
I'm at a place where the breeze laps my ears,
Like a newborn pup,
With wagging rears,
No touch,
But the feel of love,
And all thanks to the one above,
No smell.
But the jasmine's of this place in bloom,
and the drift of pine,
a fresh scent that clears the mind.
No palate,
But like a burst of plum,
On a hungry tongue,
The juices run,
The sweet, sweet taste
Of F R E E D O M!

victori- ©