Pastures

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells


To be surrounded by green pastures

And rolling hills like the sea

Stretching far and wide

And disappearing within the trees.

I desire this forgotten land

Hidden away and untouched by man.

Such is a place of history, shared with lucky few.

A field so open and bare

With nothing of industry to show but its own breeze and green.

I want this peaceful lonesome

If only for a little while,

Though I’ve yet to find such a thing.


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