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Stillness – yet hear the whispering of the breeze.
A place of quietude – yet listen to the rustling of the trees.
     Hear the sound of gentle splashing as a rivulet runs by,
     Whilst the call of gliding swallows comes gently from the sky.

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Peaceful, like the sleeping dead, ensconced within their tombs.
Relaxing, like the baby, who sleeps in his mother’s womb.
    A tranquil place, in this world, is so very hard to find,
    Away from noise and bustle so familiar to mankind.

Copyright on all my poems

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