wither Science? Magic? God? | Prismacolor pencils on paper Otitodilichukwu Okpalannaka
The Forest Conor Hoffman I see the dew fall from the leaves with grace. The birds are singing merry little tunes. The morning sun shines brightly on my face. I wish I could stay till the afternoon. Nevertheless, I’ll cherish this place now, For it is here my troubles all depart. I dread the day this place comes under plow And nature’s realm is once more torn apart. I know this day will come within the year And so I take in all the sights I can. I try my hardest not to shed one tear, For progress is the nature of a man. He has to prove his mastery over God And so, upon His canvas he will trod.
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