A CHILD OF WINDY HILLS
A child of windy hills I was born to be.
If you look deep into my eyes, you’ll see
The clear sky and stromy water,
But most of the people, they just don’t bother,
To try to see the beauty of the land,
I just wish they’d let me take their hand
And lead them through the green fields,
Running, laughing and doing cartweels.
But they don’t have time, they don’t care,
They don’t understand that beauty is rare.
I’d like to touch them and be to them so kind,
But I’m not the answer they seek to find.
© Noora
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