Mother earth Stories

Joined, once upon a time.  Innocent young lovers blending themselves. Joined together within the primeval femininity that they shared. There in the understory of emerald green sensibilities. The bosom of heaving, weaving, leafy, tender grown emotions. Are those sensations still there. Those dark, humid, steaming passions and sentiments they shared. Do they still, up to the upmost, down to the down most...  Still share the...

When the autumn wind starts to blow, The trees in the forest put on a colourful show, Yellows, browns, gold and reds, And the animals curl up snug in their beds. When dry leaves fall to the ground, With a dry rustling sound, I like to make a little leaf bed, On which to rest my weary head. While the little bird flies, To warmer skies, Mother Earth plants her tiny seeds, And tries to take care of all our needs.