My Grove of Oaks
An Original Poem
By: Rebecca Nowack

Finished: 4/27/03

Cool damp air caressing my face,
The sun smiling gently upon the ground,
Morning wind skipping through the trees
My mystical forest lies before me.

Rough and rocky road beneath me,
I sketch the trees ahead.
Strong, brown bodies and arms tipped with green
Covering the road
With a warm, green blanket.

The day warms up,
the dust launches into
golden sunbeams,
glittering like precious treasures.

Time to run,
to finish, to leave
My magical fairyland,
My grove of oaks
To work on my masterpiece
Another day.


Rebecca Nowack
AIM: chaya311
"Logic is for those who cannot create their own realities."

Wendy: I had no idea all this was going on.
Dave: I did!
Wendy: (with heavy sarcasm) I'm sure you did. Resident genius and
psychologist that you are.
(My favorite lines from I play I did.)