Society labels all that we do.
Driving is for the old,
and playing is for the young.
Yet one thing remains for both to share.
Too not only see the beauty of the hills, but to feel them and hear them sing.
Every hill has a story, and every tree and deer path, maybe more.
Every creek and stream can whisper secrets from the past,
telling the story of others who stopped to drink from the same waters.
One life doesn't have to end for a new one to begin.
Life can become endless, if you know how to make it last, it's one of the secrets of nature.
To be shared with the young and the old.
No restrictions apply.
(Old and young in this poem refers to adults and kids)