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A MAGIC PLACE.
By Faye

There is a magic place we know,
A magic place where we sometimes go.
We may only go there once a year
It’s not that far, nor yet too near.

Whenever we walk in through the door,
We feel we have come home once more.
Sometimes we choose to simply read
On a lazy bed with a pillowed head.

Sometimes we choose the bush to roam
But whatever we choose, it’s our second home.
It’s a place to be with good, old friends,
A place of mountains, river bends.

The river chuckles as it flows,
Into a lake of quiet repose.
Mirrored mountains loom above
Guarding us with arms of love.

A tui robs a wild flax flower,
Caught in a misty mountain shower.
A startled bunny hops away,
And joins its friends in rabbit play.

The mist descends and hides the skies
Time for an invasion of sand flies.
This air so clean like good white wine
The scent of damp woods and of pine,

A cold weather change, a fire bright
A dusting of snow falls through the night.
It’s a magic place, that place we know,
A magic place, but we must go.

We can return here if we please,
Our minds at rest, our hearts at ease,
That magic place has worked its spell,
That magic place that we know so well.

THE END.

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