#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
The waters blue and grasses red,
Flowers so starry, shower mist fed,
The lanes so mucky, yet joys tread,
For this is my home, welcome my friend.

For I left the concrete,am now jungle settled,
I fought those battles, where senses fiddled,
I grew weary wearing opininons,left riddled,
Ran so fast for the mountains,felt kindled.

And now when I speak,
I speak...