The sun ignores the leaves, while I tuck in the bough far above the ground.
The old limb moves gently, slowly in the breeze. While I think of my life and how fresh I am.
I see the grass below in lazy gaze, with my hands tucked neath my chin, and those fluffy clouds, move past us all without a sound.
Nearest friend, Sheila,
on another heavy branch, she too is still, moving with her limb without a sound.
Dear God, this has to be heaven, as the peace is deafening.