Skies of Smoky Gray

In the clamor of the city,
I long to get away,
Away from streets of concrete,
And skies of smoky gray.

I used to know a peaceful place,
Far in the woodland deep,
With little rabbits all around,
And sweet deer fast asleep.

I remember wild flowers,
So delicate and small,
And the oaks and elm trees,
That were so very tall.

There was a book there,
So very fresh and clean,
Swirling silver and bright blue,
With a crystal sheen.

The wind whispered in the trees,
And in the sapphire sky,
Transparent clouds went strolling,
Strolling by and by.

Occasionally a butterfly,
Would stop and talk to me,
Then he’d fly off to the flowers,
To talk with the honey bee.

The wood were filled,
With golden sunlight,
And was watched by the stars,
Shinning so bright.

The beauty and the peace,
Filled me up completely,
With larks and nightingales,
That sang so very sweetly.

My peaceful place was lost,
So very long ago,
Lost to time and memory,
As through the world I go.

My place is still in my heart,
My only getaway,
From these streets of concrete,
And skies of smoky gray.