A red ball of a sun <br />sent golden shafts <br />through the canopy <br />of ancient oaks; their <br />gnarled roots <br />showed above the earth <br />like a testimony <br />of their mighty strength. <br /> <br />At the very centre <br />of a ring of toadstools; <br />that grew in this clearing, <br />she stood alone in a gown <br />of flowing gossamer. <br /> <br />Soon he would arrive <br />and carry her <br />to the secrecy <br />of the long grassses. <br />His cloak would softly blanket <br />their lovers bed <br />as only a voyeur skylark <br />would hover and witness <br />a new creation <br />on the grasslands <br />of Tranquility.<br /><br />Ian Bowen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-grasslands-of-tranquility/
