Browse all 2,726 songs
The ocean breathes with rhythm strong,
Its waves rise and fall,
The salt air fills my lungs with life,
The sea calls to us all.
The tidepools hide in rocky shores,
Where crabs scuttle and play,
An ocean's breath sustains my soul,
At end of each new day.
The old windmill spins round and round,
Its blades catch winter's breeze,
It pumps the water from the well,
To satisfy our needs.
The creaking metal sounds so loud,
Against the silent sky,
A windmill stands through time so long,
A sentinel nearby.
I pedaled hard on penny farthing,
My balance rather poor,
The front wheel large, the back quite small,
I hit the garden floor.
But still I mounted once again,
With stubborn determination,
To master this contraption fine,
A marvel of the nation.
A midnight snowfall blankets all,
The world turned white and still,
The only sound is snowflake's soft,
That covers window sill.
The children slept with anticipation,
Of snowman and of sled,
A midnight snowfall frozen still,
Beneath the moon that's shed.
The desert cactus blooms at night,
A flower rare and fine,
It draws the moth and moon bat,
To taste its sweetness wine.
The bloom will wilt by morning light,
So brief its beauty shown,
A desert cactus blooms at night,
Yet makes the desert home.
Our campfire smokes by riverside,
The tent pegs firmly set,
The river flows past our camp,
Where we won't be late yet.
The trout are jumping in the shallows,
The bass lurk in the shade,
A riverside camp peaceful spot,
Where memories were made.
The porch swing sways in summer breeze,
Where crickets sing all night,
I sit with you in comfortable silence,
Watching fireflies light.
The neighbor's dog barks down the street,
The ice cream truck rolls by,
An old porch swing on summer nights,
Beneath the starry sky.
Dawn's first light breaks over hills,
A new day is begun,
The rooster crows to wake the farm,
To greet the morning sun.
Each sunrise brings a chance anew,
To start refreshed and clean,
Dawn's first light upon the world,
Makes all things seem serene.
The blacksmith's hammer rings so clear,
Against the anvil hot,
Sparks fly like fireflies at night,
From the iron they wrought.
The horseshoe cooled in water bucket,
Hisses with each dip,
A blacksmith's trade passed down through years,
Is work that none can skip.
The old blue jay sits on the fence,
His feathers blue and white,
He caws at us with attitude,
A bully of the birds.
He steals the seeds we put out,
Chases sparrows away,
An old blue jay with attitude,
Makes吵闹 at our feeders all day.
The candles flicker soft tonight,
The table set for two,
Wine poured in crystal glasses gleams,
As violins play through.
A candlelit dinner for two,
With love within the room,
A perfect evening shared together,
Where hearts entwine in bloom.
The forest trail winds through the pines,
Where ferns grow thick and green,
The sunlight filters through the canopy,
A dappled dancing scene.
The woodpecker drums on old bark,
The deer step light and shy,
A forest trail of wonder lies,
Beneath the open sky.
The tractor rumbles through the field,
Dust billows in its wake,
The furrows turned in perfect rows,
The farmers up at stake.
The GPS guides every pass,
Technology meets soil,
A tractor works the land today,
With precision tools.
The rain taps on the porch roof,
A rhythm soft and slow,
I watch the puddles form below,
As raindrops come and go.
The thunder growls in distance far,
The lightning flashes bright,
A rainy porch is peaceful spot,
To spend a stormy night.
Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul,
With a corncob pipe and a button nose,
And eyes made out of coal.
He's a fairy tale they say,
Was made of snow,
But friends we always stay,
In our hearts he'll always glow.
The wind chimes ring when breezes blow,
A melody so clear,
It carries songs from somewhere far,
To ears that want to hear.
Each chime a note of music plays,
Of nature's gentle art,
A wind chime rings its song today,
Upon my weary heart.
An old stone wall through fields it winds,
Built by hands now gone,
The moss grows thick on each gray stone,
Where generations walked upon.
The wall may crumble, cracks appear,
Yet still it stands today,
An old stone wall a boundary,
That time could not decay.
We walk through cemetery gates,
Where ancestors lie still,
The flags we place on Memorial Day,
Their service to fulfill.
The marble stones stand straight and true,
The names we barely read,
A cemetery walk reminds us,
Of those who came before.
The honeysuckle vine climbs up,
The old wooden fence row,
Its fragrance sweet fills summer air,
Where bees and butterflies go.
The trumpet blooms of yellow white,
Invite the hummingbird,
A honeysuckle vine in bloom,
Is summer's sweet reward.
The picnic blanket's spread out wide,
Beneath the oak tree shade,
The basket holds the lunch we packed,
Of sandwiches we made.
The ants parade in single file,
To our feast they come,
A picnic blanket on the grass,
Makes summer afternoons fun.