Ah, the scent of the groves 
fill the air, 
the leaves swishing by, 
clash in my hair. 

The sound of dew, 
dripping to the ground 
fills the silence 
that makes no sound. 

The taste of berries; 
juicy and thick; 
the flavour shooting my tongue; 
Oh, how I love to lick! 

The silvery moon, 
emerges from the night cloud; 
just as the rain begins; 
hard and loud. 

The fragrance of the plants 
conquers the smoke; 
being the correct mechanism, 
For the animals to evoke. 

The star shines solitarily, 
Hard-working and lonely, 
just as the rabbits adjust to the burrow; 
snug and homely. 

The field of poppies, 
swaying in the wind; 
the nectar of hope within it, 
was almost canned in the tin. 

The senses of love, 
that I feel for this world, 
fit in tightly; 
twisted and curled.