Heaven On Land
Heaven On Land1 min 96 1 min 96
A small place with nothing around,
A quaint piece of heaven of my own.
The buzzing of bees my only sound,
And trees far away from forming a cone.
My hands are warm through the cold,
Clutching a warm drink as I lean back.
The sun shone so brightly, it glowed,
Yet here I was in a chilly attack.
Right here was heaven right on the land.
It didn’t matter, the cold or the wind,
And here is a place where the sands
Of time didn't matter nor did I mind.