trees
If I could take a brush and paint the mountains and the moors,
I would splash the hillsides yellow and cover them in gorse.
I'd take the finest needle and the darkest thread of green
And sew a line of bracken along the landscape. In-between
I'd lay a purple carpet of wild heather in the dells
And fringe the edge of all the woods with their pretty lilac bells.
I'd merge the bracken with the heather, mix their colours like the sea,
A green and purple ocean on my own rich tapestry.
Then I'd take a ball of soft, white wool and stitch a mass of daisy chains
Around the lush green meadows and up the sides of winding lanes.
I would stencil on the marshes, just like pure white china cups,
Some fragile water lilies and by the ponds, sweet buttercups.
I'd mix orange, reds and yellows planting poppies wild and free
Onto nature's coloured canvas, my own rich tapestry.
© All Rights Reserved
I would splash the hillsides yellow and cover them in gorse.
I'd take the finest needle and the darkest thread of green
And sew a line of bracken along the landscape. In-between
I'd lay a purple carpet of wild heather in the dells
And fringe the edge of all the woods with their pretty lilac bells.
I'd merge the bracken with the heather, mix their colours like the sea,
A green and purple ocean on my own rich tapestry.
Then I'd take a ball of soft, white wool and stitch a mass of daisy chains
Around the lush green meadows and up the sides of winding lanes.
I would stencil on the marshes, just like pure white china cups,
Some fragile water lilies and by the ponds, sweet buttercups.
I'd mix orange, reds and yellows planting poppies wild and free
Onto nature's coloured canvas, my own rich tapestry.
© All Rights Reserved