Through the pines, stands your white lofty peak.
Blue sky and white clouds, art thou's for-seek.
Over the lake, your reflection is cast.
Like a shadow, from out of the past.
Smaller spires, raise skyward to seek....
The big white cloud, surrounding your peak.
What clearer picture, can we hope to see.
Just what happens, to nature's purest majesty.
Our life on earth, has many a scene.
But, none quite so great, none quite so keen.
Let's hope for peace, and let's hope it's, non-stop.
And let's hope that someday, you don't blow your top.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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