My house is on the edge of a beautiful lake,
In the east there is a big gray mountain
In the evening the sun seeems to be hiding behind the mountain
Behind my house stands tall pine trees
My house is made of pine wood
And on the side of it is a little window
And in the back is a window.
In the night the moon shines brightly
There is a water fall that is so beautiful
That I like to just sit out on my little wooden porch and watch it.
I often go for a little row down the lake.
The wishing and wishing and wondering that I live here.
The sky looks like a sea and the clouds look like waters splashing
and breaking against the rocks.
And when I go to sleep I feel like the luckiest person in the world.
The birds tweet and the wolves howel and the trees seem to talk to each other.
And the water seems to be playing.
And the likes of it is more than I can stand.
When winter comes the trees are bare
And the animals are cold and the birds leave
The beautiful lake goes stiff
And the mountains are no longer beautiful
And the sky is a dark gray
And the weather is bitter and cold.
And the days are long
Then winter has come.
When spring comes back the old gray mountain turns a beautiful gray again.
And the little bare trees have leaves again.
And the lake flows again.
And the birds fly back.
And everything is beautiful
Like the Heavens again.
Nenad (Cuic) Downing (11)
New York City, Manhattan, 12 E. 97st, Apt 5E
oct 14, 1957