Mountain Retreat

Form: Enclosed Triplets

The stars shone down upon the ground,
While I sat strumming my guitar,
And time stood still and gathered round.
O'er the mountaintop glazed the moon,
While I sat strumming my guitar,
And saw the rocks that gods had hewn.
The bacon sizzled in the pan,
While I sat strumming my guitar,
As trees whispered of nature's plan.
The pinewood burned in the campfire,
While I sat strumming my guitar,
My senses climbing ever higher.
So when I need to rest my mind,
While I'm sat strumming my guitar,
It is mountains I come to find

©JGFarmer2014

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