The Scene
When the blue skies turns bright,
I climb that very highest mountain.
I see that of God given light,
Sprinkle upon blooming flowers a fountain.
I see the big green forest,
Whose leaves would shine.
When winds would blow to give a test,
That only pine would still stand on the line.
When fall arrives,
Gray skies rule in.
The leaves dying also derives,
Like it always a been.
Yet, I see this through,
Being high up here, I am only to be tied.
Written by John Cheng
If ya got any comments on this poem, email John
