Poetry

Into My Own

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto th eedge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him the knew--
Only more sure of all I though was true.

by Robert Frost

Poetry

BEAUTIFULLY SKETCHED

When the soft wind blows

I listen to the rhythm never heard before

Pearls from heaven fall upon me

The raindrops are truly to be adored

Deep blue sea is the never ending destiny

Where ever i see

I see the sky

I smell the flowers when i breathe

Little stars are shining from the heaven above

Oh! my lord is this heaven on earth?