Tasha Black - Mine

Running,
hearing the twigs crack under my feet
and the crumble of the leaves while running to a place called mine,
no one knows about,
I can see the sunset on the dock of the pond,
red,
pink,
orange,
yellow,
and blue,
to the stars twinkling in the night,
no one would ask where I was i would not tell a soul the place I call mine.

Tasha Black

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mine-31/