The Creek

A place tucked away,
in the hollow on a family’s farm.
Something so beautiful to one’s mind,
especially to a child.

Soursobs push their yellow petals high to be seen,
like a child wearing yellow in a room full of green.
The reeds swish as the wind pushes them around.
Bamboo standing guard over the creek bed.

Water flows freely along the creek like a soft breeze through a bush.
Its green blanket of grass pillows my now lying body.
Eyes to the blue sky, fairy floss clouds float around.
Soon the setting sun to spray its last heat through the gum’s branches

Every time possible is to be with the creek,
Something that can make me smile even when weak.