Untouched Nature

A Poem by typetraveller

An experiment with descriptive language based on my thoughts of nature. Hope you enjoy!

I remember the fountain that rested at the bottom of the stairs, its aged, silver statue up straight in the middle of it. It used to be my favourite little resting place where I could easily turn the pages over and over without a moment of interruption. It was perfectly rounded within the centre of the formation of cracked stones that lied beneath the stairs. In between the cracks, small growths of nature crawled through, greeting the air with it's soft shade of green. Beyond the stones grew knee deep grass, with overgrown trees overhanging above. It was as if the place was untouched, with nature claiming back their land. It was a quiet bubble of beauty within a world of non-stop clattering, a world filled with people too busy to acknowledged the softness life has to offer. It was my little spot to read my favourite books without even a speck of worry. The trickling water behind my as I lean on the fountain, the air filled a silence filled with rustling leaves and soft chirps of passing birds. In the moments spent hiding away from life, I never felt the need to include music, as it would only ever taint the air. Instead, I spent my days peacefully reading with nature whispering on my neck.