Bush Walk

The trees are blowing in the wind and the water is slowly and gently flowing.

I hear the trees rustling in the wind,

the cars zooming by,

the sound of my feet hitting the gravel on each step I take.

The grown-ups chatting loudly and the flowers nearby the river.

I feel my Dad’s soft hands as I hold them, 

the sun on my arms and the wind blowing in my face, 

I feel the concrete under the bottom of my shoes.