PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We used to camp there often
in days when kids were young.
We'd listen in the early morn
to bird song sweetly sung.
River running over rocks
delighted with its chatter,
with the billy bubbling gently
and breakfast on our platter.

Often times we'd climb the hills
taking in vast rural view.
We made our visits often,
there was always lots to do.
Swimming in those sunny days
(for swimming holes were many),
so far from city bustle
life's pressures weren't any.

Te Moana Gorge they named it;
such peace with bush surrounding.
Hidden valley, beautiful,
campsites there abounding,
we'd stay there for a fortnight
escaping from the city,
but now I live too far away
can't reach it, more's the pity!

I go there in my memory,
I visit in my dreams,
that place of great contentment,
that place of chuckling streams.
Wood pigeons in the treetops,
No need for chains and locks.
I wish I could revisit there
bush, river, hills and rocks.