I must confess

That I feel blessed

To live on nature’s land

But how I miss 

That goodnight kiss

And walking hand in hand.

The nights are short

And days are long

Remembering a time 

When loneliness was someone

Else’s problem, now it’s mine.

“Good morning” said the oak tree
To the dark and gloomy stone
“Would thou prefer I go away
And leave thee to thine own?”
I sway your way on a gentle breeze
With warmth for you to hold
But as a tree, I ask of thee
“Do stones prefer the cold?”