Deep Earth: Lost In The Mountains

Wigglin' toes in the hot southern clay.
Red like her hair when the sun hits it.
Will you miss this, surrounded by hills
by sweet hillbilly sounds.

Melodic, tap toes, skipping stones.
Nostalgia at it's finest.
Where no one can find us.
Lost up in the hills, lost in the mountains.

The waterfalls they are like fountains,
moss grows fat on these ancient stones.
I'll keep these images, stored in my head.
In the bead tracing tiny fingers over quartz
found in the river bed.

Whistlin' loud, proud to be from here.
Ancestors whisper on the wind, singin'
to me to join their voices here on this
mountain that my grandmother was born on.

Our child, wild, lost in the mountains.

Reviews

[VioletRose]

This is an AWesome Poem