By Jason Lyons

I stand on a hill
Dotted with daisies
Damp with dew
Butterflies flitter about
Stretching their stained glass wings
Nymphs dance and sing
In the woods below
A warm breeze blows about
Sifting through my hair
The sun is gently dropping
Its last beams caressing the earth
As she falls into evening slumber
On the air at this moment
Is a sweet taste
The taste of freedom
Of being

©1998 Oasis Magazine. All Rights Reserved.