Heaven On Land

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.