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'Where are you from?' said the beach to the sea.

'I’m a traveller,' said he. 'I’m unbridled and free!'

      'But where are you from and what do you do?'

      'I’m a gypsy, a wanderer - not grounded like you.'

 

'Where are you from, strong wind?' said the trees.

'I come from nowhere and I go as I please.

     I’m a roamer, a loner whose force drives the air

     But show me respect.  I’ve a temper.  Take care!'

 

'Where are you from?' said a child to the snow.

'Snow's born in the clouds overhead.  Don’t you know?

     I saw you below on this cold, wintry day

     And thought I’d come down and join in your play.'

 

Said the fish to the river: 'Where do you go?

Can I come and swim in your watery flow?'

    The river replied: 'I flow to the sea

     And I would be pleased if you would join me.'

 

We’re travellers too, though with feet on the ground.

Our earth carries all as it goes round and round.

      As the world spins in space, we’re transported too.

      Is this a surprise or a fact that you knew?

 

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Copyright on all my poems

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