A ode to dreams and places we wish to be.
The lure of nature calls me.
The sunshine is my inspiration causing me
to be giddy with verse.
The singing of birds lifts my mood to the
heavens.
No day is complete without the robin's
greeting or the lively chickadee's call.
The brightness of flowers is what I seek out.
A feast more filling than a scrumptious dinner.
I want to run away to the forest.
I want to look upon the secret lives of
creatures.
I want to listen to the chorus of forest birds
I want to gaze upon the perfection of forest
blooms.
I want to live next to a forest, so nature's
playground can always be close.
Books are my companions.
The best entertainment is to read a fantastic
book.
A good friend to fill your days with comfort.
The coldest day in winter is not complete without
a book.
Words are my breath.
One of the main reasons for my existence.
Without them I lack cohesion.
I want to ran away to a library with millions of
books.
To get lost for a week among the stacks.
Many gems to discover.
Many treasures to fill my mind and heart.
More words to fill my thirst for knowledge.
The old draws me.
The era of the 1800's is a fascination to me.
A simpler time when life was not cluttered with
a rush to be important.
When pride in a person's craft was drawn out in
beautiful creations.
Creations that were made to endure time.
More than the creations of slapped together mass
production.
I want to run away to an antique store.
To spend a week pouring over each precious
creation, looking at each maker's mark.
If I had a million dollars.
I would like to buy an antique store.
Then I can have constant access to history in
pottery.
The beauty of flowers drowns my eyes.
Everywhere I go, I am scanning the horizon to
locate a garden spectacle for my eyes.
My hands in the winter ache for the spring, to
bury them in tilled soil.
To witness the miracle of growth from tiny seeds.
To laud after my cultivation.
Do I ever have control in the end result?
Nature is the grand cultivator.
I want to run away to an huge greenhouse or
a nursery.
I want to seize every bloom I have ever desired.
To look upon the glory of tulips, my favorite
flower.
To bury my nose in the scents of perfumed
banquets.
Even though I am allergic, if I sneezed I would
not care.
There may be other places I wish to run away to.
If I wrote them all down, they would fill a book.
Some of my desires I may attain, others I may
never achieve.
No matter the future outcome I will still strive to
fulfill each wish.
To live next to a forest for the rest of my life.
To visit The Library of Congress.
To own an antique store.
To stop renting and own a home with my own
permanent garden.
Some of my dreams may be your dreams also.
If you achieve anything you desire.
Write down your experiences and tell the world.
People will know that the pursuit of dreams is
not in vain.
Poetry by Amy Buchanan
Read 769 times
Written on 2007-03-28 at 03:16
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I Want to Run Away
The lure of nature calls me.
The sunshine is my inspiration causing me
to be giddy with verse.
The singing of birds lifts my mood to the
heavens.
No day is complete without the robin's
greeting or the lively chickadee's call.
The brightness of flowers is what I seek out.
A feast more filling than a scrumptious dinner.
I want to run away to the forest.
I want to look upon the secret lives of
creatures.
I want to listen to the chorus of forest birds
I want to gaze upon the perfection of forest
blooms.
I want to live next to a forest, so nature's
playground can always be close.
Books are my companions.
The best entertainment is to read a fantastic
book.
A good friend to fill your days with comfort.
The coldest day in winter is not complete without
a book.
Words are my breath.
One of the main reasons for my existence.
Without them I lack cohesion.
I want to ran away to a library with millions of
books.
To get lost for a week among the stacks.
Many gems to discover.
Many treasures to fill my mind and heart.
More words to fill my thirst for knowledge.
The old draws me.
The era of the 1800's is a fascination to me.
A simpler time when life was not cluttered with
a rush to be important.
When pride in a person's craft was drawn out in
beautiful creations.
Creations that were made to endure time.
More than the creations of slapped together mass
production.
I want to run away to an antique store.
To spend a week pouring over each precious
creation, looking at each maker's mark.
If I had a million dollars.
I would like to buy an antique store.
Then I can have constant access to history in
pottery.
The beauty of flowers drowns my eyes.
Everywhere I go, I am scanning the horizon to
locate a garden spectacle for my eyes.
My hands in the winter ache for the spring, to
bury them in tilled soil.
To witness the miracle of growth from tiny seeds.
To laud after my cultivation.
Do I ever have control in the end result?
Nature is the grand cultivator.
I want to run away to an huge greenhouse or
a nursery.
I want to seize every bloom I have ever desired.
To look upon the glory of tulips, my favorite
flower.
To bury my nose in the scents of perfumed
banquets.
Even though I am allergic, if I sneezed I would
not care.
There may be other places I wish to run away to.
If I wrote them all down, they would fill a book.
Some of my desires I may attain, others I may
never achieve.
No matter the future outcome I will still strive to
fulfill each wish.
To live next to a forest for the rest of my life.
To visit The Library of Congress.
To own an antique store.
To stop renting and own a home with my own
permanent garden.
Some of my dreams may be your dreams also.
If you achieve anything you desire.
Write down your experiences and tell the world.
People will know that the pursuit of dreams is
not in vain.
Poetry by Amy Buchanan
Read 769 times
Written on 2007-03-28 at 03:16
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
