Yellow sands and green pastures,
by Melba Durham
Mountain paths, with bubbling brooks of laughter.
The smell of honeysuckle in the air,
And bees flying everywhere.
Sunshine bright, as a morning star,
Takes me back, oh, so far, when I was a child,
Chasing butterflies, through the fields of wildflowers,
Seeing windmills, that looked like towers
The feel of the cool breeze on my face,
Filled my soul with warmth,
That made my heart race.
Earth, really is a beautiful place,
Touched by the Great masters embrace.