Somewhere, Up There...

Somewhere,

high up in the mountains,

where the wind blows free

and frolicks teasingly

with the huge pine tree

where the sky is always clear

but for when the clouds roll

and they hang down so near

that the gray takes over the blue

and yet one wonders,

who painted this hue?

There,

high up in the mountains,

where clear streams run

and tinkle and sprinkle

their ware with so much fun,

where the many butterflies fly

dancing with great abundance,

naughty and yet shy!

Here,

high up in the mountains,

where the world is so pure

a small hut is all I want,

yes, I am so sure.

In the midst of this green,

living would be a bliss

no empty smiles to give,

no hatred, malice or airborne kiss.

Solitude for company,

through moods happy and sad

peace will reign.

where all seasons would be beautiful -

bright summer and misty rain.