Sentinels Of Old
Ancient treesStanding gaurd
Like sentinels of old
Holding me in
Their strong arms
Silently watching
Protecting me
Inside my
Sacred space
Magic is afoot
Whispers among
The gaurdians
Gently swaying
In the breeze
Energy raised
The ancient ones
Swaying to their own
Swirls of power
Leaves shimmering to
Their own primitive beat
Poetry by Queen
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Written on 2005-08-16 at 06:29
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