Untitled - Alastair Spencer-Nairn (G)

The trees with their arms surround me

With a scent of pure wilderness

As we run through the forest at the

Bottom of the hill.

Watching the frogs leap,

And the birds take flight,

And the occasional squirrel as it

Clambers up the trees.

Then the clearing is gone

Like a picture on display and it is

Only a faint memory in the

Days that lie ahead.