Song of the Shire
The infant rays of sunlight
Filtered through the small panes
Of the sleepy Hobbitons, a wake-up
Call to the start of the day.
Shire-folks smoked weed
And Argentine ciphers born of
The plumes ripples into thin air
Carrying the dream of the day.
The wild Brandywine in her stately
Updraft, washes away the suffering
Of felled logs disturbing her flow
And dips them straight into the marshland.
The pretty flora of the ancient woodlands
Stack their dreams in swirling petals of which
Are later reborn in the night.
The proud Three Shire Oak stands as
A silent guardian to Whitwell wood
As woodpeckers prick into the cavernous
Echoes of his heart to find out his longing.
Remnant of white clouds like ancient
Ruins wander lonely over the Hills of Evendim
And reflections of a century’s History float
In their accord.
Shire! Fill me with your rainbow colors
And let me dive deep into your essence
And let me stay drowned in your dreams
Forever.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
