The Nightingale Poem by simon thorpe

sweet solitude, silent and soulful,
The nightingale swooning to its own melancholy overtures,
a rustle of leaves, the squirell hoarding for the winter break,
The wooded glaze beyond sings to natures hauntingly beautiful tune.

Nature isn't party to the tough times man faces,
It is a gift all year round that even the poorest souls can afford,
All it asks is that we care for it like we do for our own,
The heavenly child, vulnerable, frightened and merely mortal,

Natures beauty isnt eternal, but we need to act as one to help it survive,
A morally corrupt and bankrupt society,
seeping into everything we hold dear and making it rotton,
If we all unite, we can secure the future for our blessed children.

The nightingale will sing again.....