The blue sky beckons and calls me,
So clear and so beautiful,
The clouds moving along,
A design so beautifully created,
The reflection of the blueness on the water lake below,
The peeping gentle light of the sun rays,
Sun sets away towards the evening,
Making way to the night’s glamorous bright moon…
There is an image in my head of the travels I made,
Which shouldn’t have come to an end,
There is an image in my head of my favorites ones I visited,
A memory still so fresh,
There is an image of the village I visited,
The country life I enjoyed,
The beautiful nature and spaces,
That calmness that comes by,
There is an image in my head of the river that flows and the sound which is a feeling one cannot deny,
The ever so long journeys on the road,
The pictures the scenic view that one enjoys,
The people we connect and meet and the learning experiences,
Definitely something worthwhile…
The hills are calling me,
A voice that echoes,
The clear blue sky and the river that flows below,
The hills are calling me and I hear so,
The winds that make the trees dance,
The clouds bowing to the hills what a sight it must be,
The hills are calling me come visit,
The view is magnificent and I can say no more,
For I am now speechless and lost in its beauty….
Two streams flowing down the sloping sides,
Gently flowing into the rushing river tides,
Twisted and curved along the lines,
Clear and transparent,
A shine on the surface of water in the light,
Catching the eye of the passers by,
Admiring the beauty of the two streams flowing nearby…
A small cottage lay in the forest,
Surrounded by streams,
Enclosed between tall trees,
Chimney smokes,
Whistles heard,
Smell of food,
When wind blew across,
It would open the windows,
Bang the doors creating a loud noise,
Inside the cottage was a cozy fire place,
Where one could sit around,
An old couch with a center table and some old books lying around,
The cottage had some paintings,
The walls had some weathering,
A beautiful vase with fresh flowers gave an aroma away,
One could also smell a cauldron of fresh soup ready cooking away,
At one corner,
There was a wooden rocking chair and an old lady sat there,
She was knitting a sweater and humming a tune,
She got up and left the room,
Took her walking stick and went to her store room,
She used a key to unlock a box,
She opened it with excitement,
Out came an old diary which had her thoughts,
With a bookmark in the middle,
She lays her eyes on a picture of a young man,
Tears across her cheek for its her son that she never meets,
She closes the diary and leaves,
Resumes her normal day as it is….
Creative Envision 