Home

Whistling through the wind, 
The leaves move through the trees.
The sky above moulds into a thousand colours,
And painted ever so slightly are the pearl white clouds.
The green pasture continues for miles,
Connecting the land together so perfectly.
The water glistens along the contour banks,
Creating a detailed reflection of the world above.
The horses canter along the moist soil,
Embracing the sun shining through the plains.
I call it my home.