When I'm feeling winsome,
Then I sit and think some.

Whatever I wrote,
My mind was afloat.

Way back in the past,
Before the die was cast.

The freedom that I feel,
Is almost surreal.

The pleasure that I get,
As the words my mind doth set.

The peace in a forest glade,
As it offers me its shade.

Tranquility it doth spread,
Through my weary head.

Written by Pete Barlow 10/04/2000
Email : Pete Barlow