Burrugin

Burrugin, a place full of frost and woodlands
A friendly wind applauds my face in a welcoming way
The floral, fresh and gentle fragrance courses through my nostrils
While an audience of lavenders are polluted with bees
The airy, earthy nature soars through the silence
The angelic birds flutter overhead enjoying their scandalous chats

With the nights cold and the days frosty,
The innocent white flowers crouch over to hide their insides.
A surprising expression of wind directs the plants with a kind, gentle please.
With crisp oxygen flowing on every corner, it comes with a smell of freshness in the air.

The frigid shade gives me a blink of a new idea
While leaves fall humbly, awakening from their drowse
The pink curly flowers give shelter to the plants below,
Giving them a chance to survive and grow.

While I ponder around,
The green, humane grass squishes to the terrain,
Unable to rise.
The gargantuan trees drift from side to side, infectious with wind.

Here, you see, a place I call home,
Has its secrets of its own.