And the Mighty Wind Blows
And the mighty wind blows through the tops of the many trees,
Whistling through the waving leaves, composing a symphony.
Cypress trees by blue water,
Soft chatter of falling rain,
Creations lovely daughter,
A place where time began.
It’s where poets go to write lines of prose and rhyme,
With hope that what is penned will stand the test of time.
It’s where scholars search for what they do not know,
With hope that what is found will bring a bright tomorrow.
And the mighty wind blows through the tops of the many trees,
Whistling through the waving leaves, composing a symphony.
It’s where children play, ‘neath moss covered trees,
With hope that each new day, will bring rich fantasies.
.It’s where young lovers go on a clear and blissful day,
With hope that the love they share will never fade away.
And the mighty wind blows through the tops of the many trees,
Whistling through the waving leaves, composing a symphony.
All kinds can journey where,
Rich flora groom the scene,
Midst orchards very rare,
Carolina’s beauty queen!
And the mighty wind blows through the tops of the many trees,
Whistling through the waving leaves, composing a symphony.
Copyright © David Moore | Year Posted 2018
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