The forest always on the age of teen.
Tall wild walls with bountries that lean.
Thick broad leaves together no too far an inch.
The swirling wind as cool as ice, always gives a pinch.
To the calm green, I turn,
copying each face of jungle I earn.
Nature is truly no copyright,
with laws of trunks at height.
In each breath I keep in touch,
with the sagine beauty inside, so much.
Showers of rain at terms, do arrives.
For the chattering dense, it thrives.
As on the tree house, me taking rest....