The harsh reality is sometimes stifling
And my soul longs for a respite.
To fantasy land it wishes to go
And seek some peace and quiet.
A land where hills are low and green,
With a river that flows by, at its base.
Where meadows bare their heart to the sun
And fragrance the butterflies chase.
A house in a glade, all to self,
Nature’s caress all over the place.
Ignore I would then the clock’s chimes
And let me, my thoughts embrace.