I long for the mountains so fertile and green,
It has been so long since I have been home it feels like a dream.
This place has a beauty all its own,
But, its nothing compared to the beauty of my home.
Trees ever green, lakes, ponds, rivers and streams,
I miss my mountain home so much I could scream.
The trees so green or the bare stone,
This place I call home can chill to the bone.
Even in the dead of winter blanketed in white,
This place I yern for frees me from strife.
Maybe more will come to me later on this.. what started out a journal has become a poem of the place I miss. Summertime in the mountains of northwestern Washington there is no place like it that I have been as traveled as I have come to be deep in the forested mountains of washington is the only home for me.