Stillness – yet hear the whispering of the breeze.
A place of quietude – yet listen to the rustling of the trees.
Hear the sound of gentle splashing as a rivulet runs by,
Whilst the call of gliding swallows comes gently from the sky.
Peaceful, like the sleeping dead, ensconced within their tombs.
Relaxing, like the baby, who sleeps in his mother’s womb.
A tranquil place, in this world, is so very hard to find,
Away from noise and bustle so familiar to mankind
This poem is one of 344 chosen by teachers in many schools in West Yorkshire for publication in 2010. I hope you like it. Josie